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asmaticc · 9 months

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hobie brown x fem!reader

word count - 4.0k

context - reader lives alone and goes to college, you could think Hobie goes too but that’s up to you!! She’s been knowing he’s spiderman for a while now

synopsis - hobie swings by your room after defeating some bad guys, but he’s heavily injured, and if he doesn’t get helped soon, the worst could happen. so he goes to the only person he would trust his life

you helping the guy who’s got you mad in love, praying for him not to die in your arms

warnings - mention of gunshot, blood, removal of a bullet, hobie is fucked up, anxiety attack

** I don’t write the different pronunciations of words in his cockney slang because I like it better to just read the word and imagine him pronouncing it, hope this doesn’t bother you <3

You were in your bed reading a book to keep your head off your thoughts. You haven’t heard of Hobie since your conversation in the morning, when he texted you he would swing by once he was done looking after the city. Something was off… he would text sometimes to check if it was still ok to hang up even if it was late, but it’s been more than 10 hours.

Maybe you were too focused on him. This isn’t the first time this happens, but since you knew you had a crush on him, you would get more anxious thinking or getting around him, and you think you hide it well (and of course you don’t).

A heavy noise outside your window knocked you off your mind. “Finally”, you thought, the star had just arrived at only… 3:56 am. Great! You’ll get to sleep at least 3 hours before going to class tomorrow, or today… But what was he doing not opening the window? (which you always left a little bit open for him to enter easily). You went to peek outside to find him lying on the fire stairs, almost passed out, so you freaked out.

“The fuck happened Hobie?” Rushing to get him up and getting him inside.

“You should see the other guy, love” He managed to smirk at you, but as you seated him on your bed, a wince replaced it.

You examined him quickly following the instructions you learned when you took some first aid classes. Then, you got to his abdomen, he was covering something with his hand, and as you look closer, you see his hand soaked in blood.

“Bee I need you to take your hand off, okay? I need you to lay down and tell me what happened, can you do that?” You were trying to keep your cool to not scare him, which was actually keeping him focused on your instructions.

“I was fighting with some of Kingpin donkeys and some idiot pulled a gun out” he hissed when you removed the cloth upon the wound. His chest was going up and down heavily, you rushed to your bathroom to get the first aid kit and some pills for the pain. He’s gonna need them.

“I don’t see the bullet has gone out” You informed. “I’m gonna need to open you and take it out, Hobie. Is that okay?” He nods and you take a scalpel, breath in and out trying to stay the most focused you can. “I’m sorry to ask you this but you need to stay still”

You open a little line right across the wound to give you more access to get the bullet. He grunts but doesn’t move, so you take the long tweezers and start to put them in. Hobie grabs your arm and looks you in the eyes, you can feel how scared he was, but him stopping you wasn’t gonna help.

“Babe I know this hurts but I gotta take it out, you have to trust me” Your eyes were starting to water, but the nickname seemed to calm him off, so he let go of his arm.

You started doing your work, trying not to do him any more harm, but you finally got the little metal. You put it in your hand watching if it was cracked, and fortunately it wasn’t.

“It’s in one piece, you can relax a little now, Bee. I’m going to clean you up and try to sew you, can you hold on a little longer for me?” You asked him while looking at his eyes, caressing his hand. A little “yeah” escaped from his lips, so you began to put alcohol on a cotton and clean him. You saw how he clenched his fists and your heart ached, you couldn’t see him like this, it was gonna rip you apart at this point.

Done with the stitches and putting a gauze, you felt how your pulse was starting to get higher and higher. “It’s okay, it’s okay” you repeat to yourself over and over again to calm you down. Hobie needed you to be strong, because who was going to take care of his crazy ass if not?

“ ’m sorry… for all of this” he said quietly.

“Please don’t say that. You know I’m here to help, and it’s not your fault, Bee” You seated next to him, handing him an ibuprofen and a glass of water. “Don’t be sorry for protecting this city, don’t be sorry for protecting the people in it, and don’t be sorry for asking for help. I know it sucks for you, but I don’t know what I would do if I ever lose you” Your voice cracked at the end, a tear running down your cheek.

You looked at him, he was pale because of all the blood he lost, you could tell he didn’t have any strength left. He was looking at you with sad eyes, not knowing what to say, so you got up and took one of his shirts and pants he left in your house for when he stayed the night.

You took off his boots, ripped shirt and suit, helping him to put on his other clothes. It was the first time you saw him like that, and it was scaring you to death, so you kept up all night watching after him, checking the bandage and his temperature constantly.

The sunrise started to show up through your window, so you closed the blinds to let Hobie rest all he needed. He’s been sleeping since you changed his clothes, passing out almost immediately. You felt your eyes burn from the unshed tears, and now from the tiredness, but you were worried something happened while you were sleeping. Your heart is still racing to be quicker by any thought of it, your head spinning around, your strength starting to fade away. You went to the kitchen to drink some cold water, but your legs had other plans, so you fell on the ground. That’s when you lost it. You grabbed your chest trying to keep your heart inside of it, sobbing as quiet as you could not to wake Hobie up. It was all blurry and your head was spinning around, so you reached the closest wall to you and sat against it, hugging your legs and burying your head between them while counting from 1 to 100, just like Hobie teached you.

You had anxiety attacks before, and Hobie was with you in almost all of them. He would count with you in a soft voice, then ask you if you could see 3 objects and describe them to him. It helped you to focus on something else, so you did the same, trying to remember his voice accompanying you.

After a while, you could get up, finally starting to recover. This time you got to the kitchen, but you splashed some water on your face to keep you focused. “What am I gonna do now?” you thought. Of course you wouldn’t go to class, so you texted your group of friends to send you everything they’ll do today and forget about it. Then, you started to prepare a quick breakfast for you, thinking to let Hobie sleep and give him something to eat once he is awake.

After eating, you went back to your room to check if he was still bleeding and change the gauze. Luckily, he was knocked out, so he didn’t wake up. “What if he has an internal bleeding?” You asked yourself, and the anxiety came back. Now you wouldn’t take your eyes off him, and so, the hours passed by.

The night was falling, and so did your eyelids. But you gotta keep watching Hobie in case he wakes up. You’ve been searching for information about what to do in this case (unfortunately, every one of them told you to go to the hospital), worried if he needed a blood transfusion or some kind of medication you didn’t have. As you didn’t find anything that could help you, you just stayed next to your bed, sitting in your chair while reading the book that you left unattended last night.

A heavy sigh took your attention and you looked at the body in your bed. Hobie was shivering. You took another ibuprofen and helped him to swallow it, which was quite difficult because he was still asleep.

Once he took it, you tucked him with the sheets and looked at him praying to whoever was listening not to take him away from you. Your hand on his cheek made him lean to it, caressing for your touch. You left a kiss on it and went to the couch to get some sleep, thinking how you got to this point.

𓆩*𓆪

Hobie has been weird for a few months, he would barely go out with you, and every time you’d ask him what’s going on, he just said “nothing”. Was he starting to be bored of you? You’ve been best friends since forever. Of course this would have to happen one day, but it was killing you inside.

The funny part is that he was still the same when he was around. He would have his arm around you while walking, texting you with the same irradiant energy, looking out for you. But something was off. Maybe he knows you have a crush on him, that’s why he’s acting like that. Maybe that’s why you two don’t hang out that much anymore. Maybe he was pushing you out little by little to not hurt your feelings.

But you were sick of it. So you went to his house one day, determined to confront him, but to your surprise, he didn’t answer the door. Was he out? He didn’t mention he had plans. He neither had a show today. Perhaps he’ll come back soon. And you waited, and waited, and waited. You texted him a couple times asking if he was going to return soon, but there wasn’t even a blue check.

By midnight you heard a heavy noise inside his apartment, so you ring the bell furiously, thinking he’s been there all along and he was just ignoring you. Soon after, the door opened, revealing a confused Hobie who seemed like he had just ran a marathon.

“What is your goddamn problem, Hobart?” You said almost screaming at him. “You’ve been avoiding me since I-don’t-know how much time, and now you just ignore my messages? Look, if you hate me just say so. I don’t get why you just gotta keep pushing me out of your life without explai-”

“Wow wow wow, who says I hate you?” He cut you off. “Y/N, I ain’t avoiding y-”

“Of course you are!” You interrupted him as well. “We don’t hang out anymore, every time I say what’s up with you, you avoid the question. I barely see you, and when I do, it’s like you are too tired to speak to me. I’m sick of this, Hobie. Just tell me what’s wrong.” He was staring at you, his lips forming a line. Was he gonna do it? It could be risky, but you were best friends, and he got the feeling if he kept pushing you out of this, he’ll lose you forever.

Your patience had run out, your eyes started to burn. And then you saw him with a piece of cloth between his hands. The fuck was that? Is this a joke?

“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you sooner” It was Spiderman’s mask. The Spiderman that has been around for a couple of months, fighting all kinds of bad guys and all that shit. You grabbed the mask and examined it well. It was true, your best friend was Spiderman. “Look, Y/N, you have the right to be mad at me, but I don’t wanna lose ya ‘cause of this stupid thing”

“You fucking wanker” You punched him in the arm, but he didn’t even flinch.

𓆩*𓆪

Since then, you’ve been by his side. No more secrets between you two (well, only one, but you weren’t gonna tell him). You even spent more time together now that you were the only person he could trust, and that made you grow your feelings for him even more day by day. Sometimes it was so hard for you that you had to go to a different room and calm you down. If he wasn’t interested in having a partner before being spiderman, now it was gonna be impossible. You knew he had some things with other boys and girls before, but he didn’t wanna know anything about serious relationships, as far as you know (because the only thing he wanted was you). Moreover, he was a fucking runway model, a star, he could have anything he wanted. Not like if you were his type or anything… He could find something better, you two were just friends, but the way he teases you and the way he always has his hand around you was confusing you, but maybe it was just the way he is.

It’s been almost two years since that night, two years in which your heart ached stronger every time you see him. But you were alright, it’ll pass. And now it’s been two days since the incident. He hadn't woken up yet, but he was still breathing. Also, he wasn’t pale anymore, nor bleeding through the stitches, that had to be a good sign, right?

You went to his house to get some more clothes, washed his suit and fixed it for him. You gotta say you did a great job, even started to work on some new designs for it. Hobie needed something that would protect him from this to happen again. It’s not like you were going to find a vibranium suit anywhere, or a nanobot one, but you could try doing something better. At this point, your eyebags had eyebags, but you’ll get more rest once you have finished.

“Y/N?” You heard a husky voice calling you.

“Well, well, well, how’s the sleeping beauty?” you said walking to your bed, hiding your worry and trying to play it cool. “You’ve been out for two days, you git”. He tried to get up, but hissed in pain when he sat up in bed. “Easy on that, I don’t want to stitch you up again” you smiled softly as his eyes fell on you.

“You look like shit” he laughed a little. That was a good sign.

“Look who’s talking! By the way, this is the face of someone that has been taking care of your ass non-stop” You chuckled as you ignored your heart racing.

“Quit the shit show Y/N. You’ve been awake for two days? Where did you sleep?” He said seriously. Now he was upset, not with you but himself. He shouldn’t have gone to you, he just made things worse.

“Of course not, but I haven’t slept much either. And the couch is quite comfortable” You said quietly. “I was afraid you could get worse, so I had to watch out for you in the meantime” that’s it, you were breaking again. You were playing with your fingers, looking away from Hobie.

“I’m sorry I put you through all of this, it was stupid not going to the hospital in the first place” His voice was low, you could feel he was blaming himself. “I’m sorry, love” he said one last time, tears invading his eyes. He didn’t know if it was because he almost died, or because he almost died on you. He didn’t want to keep pushing you through this, knowing it was hurting you more than himself.

“Bee, you know I chose to be here” you said, cleaning the tears that escaped from his eyes. “I chose to help you, and I still choose to do it” you held his hand, drawing circles on his palm to calm him down, he had always liked it. “Besides, how could you go to the hospital in your suit? Someone must have thrown a punch in your head because what you’re saying doesn’t even make sense” you two grin at your joke. “And I know nobody is going to care for you as much as me… I couldn’t leave you in the hands of a stranger” You analyzed his face, eyes a little bit red, his cheekbones were more notorious, lips parted already healed from a small wound he had, but still as handsome as ever. You could melt right there.

“You’ right on that, doll” he smirked and sobbed a little. “No one’s as good as my girl” Boom, that heartache again. You threw a weak smile at him and got up.

“Don’t move, I’m gonna… get some new patches, be right back” you said leaving the room quickly without seeing his face. He was perplexed, what had he done now?

Got to the bathroom and searched for the things. Once you got them, you sat on the toilet, hand on your chest, breathing in and out. “Fuck” was the only thing you could think. Your pulse slowed a little, so you headed back to your room.

“Everything okay up there?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just remembered I gotta change this” you said nervously while lifting his shirt to uncover the gauze that hid his wound. You carefully took the bandage off with one hand, while the other was drawing circles around Hobie’s waist. You didn’t want to hurt him, so you tried to do something to relax him. “Looks like in two or three days I’ll be able to remove the stitches… if you stay still and stop spider-ing for a while” you were dead serious, and he could tell by the look on your face.

“How could I go when I have you all for me now?” he said teasingly, but meaning every word of it.

“Wanna have breakfast?” You said, avoiding the previous sentence and throwing the old bandages to the bin (that was full of them, maybe you should take the trash). His side smile gave you the affirmation you were looking for, so you headed to the kitchen and started to make some toasts and coffee. “Are you sure you should be drinking coffee after almost dying?” you said a little loud for him to hear you from the bed. Seconds after, you felt two arms rounding your waist and a heavy weight on your back. He hid his face on your neck and you could feel how you were getting red, your pulse raging and your body starting to shake on his touch. “What are you doing, Bee?” is the only thing you could say.

“Did you call me babe?” You were paralyzed, you did in fact call him babe two days ago, but that was because you needed him to relax, yeah, that’s it. “You gonna answer me?”

“I needed you to calm down, and you did, so it worked. Why you ask?” neutral tone, very well managed.

“Keep doing it, I like it” he pushed his face more into your neck where he left a peck, his arms hugged you stronger.

“C’mon Hobie, let’s eat something. Get off me… please” That please was more to yourself, asking you to keep focused on serving the coffee than anything else, you were still shaking. “It’s gonna get cold, babe” please, please, please get away.

And he let you go, now an emptiness invading your body. You need him right back, it’s like you are going to fall if he’s not grabbing you. A small sigh left your lips, could be because of the lack of his touch or the relief that you felt now that he couldn’t feel you shaking on his arms.

You placed the dishes on the lunch table, watching him sit slowly on the chair. “At least he can walk”. You ate in silence, checking up on him if he had any trouble but seemed fine. Right when you two were done, you took the plates and started washing them, couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

“By the way, I went to your place and got you some things, if you need to change” your voice was low, it trembled in your chest. “Probably should take a shower, everything is on my desk” you heard him get up and go away. It wasn’t long after you heard the bathroom door close and the water run. You knocked the door and said “Hobie, if you need help just call me, I’m right outside” and waited for him to finish.

It has been like 30 minutes when you heard the bathroom door again and watched how a half-naked Hobie went into your room. He had his shirt off, wearing the joggers you picked for him. Goddamn he’s hot you thought, gawking at him.

“Can you… help me with this?” he pointed to his wound. You took more Betadine and cotton, passing it through it. It still hurt, his chest was up and down, but little did you know it was because of your touch, electrifying his skin with your soft hands. He lifted your chin up, now a hand resting on your cheek. “Thanks” he said lowly, you couldn’t escape from his eyes. His heart was rushing, just as yours, he needed to say it, it was killing him slowly. He’s been in love with you since forever, couldn’t get you out of his head, even when making out with other people. It was like a parasite that controlled both his heart and his mind. He thinks you are scared of him, and he can’t keep going on with this. So he started to get closer to your lips, but you stepped off.

“A-All done” you mumbled, collecting the things and putting them away on your desk, turning your back on him. You watched your hands tremble. “You gotta see this, I’ve been thinking of making you a new suit, y’know… so a bullet doesn’t have to get to you again” you laughed nervously, your voice is shaking.

“Fuck off Y/N” you squeezed your eyes. He took your arm and lured you back at him. Chest to chest, now looking up at him. He had an unknown look to you. “I really can’t take this anymore” now his hands trapped your waist against him, there was no escape. Why is he doing this? It was like he bit you with his venom and now you were his prey, completely paralyzed watching him getting closer to eat you.

“Hobie, pleas-” you were interrupted by a kiss. His lips on yours, moving slowly. You responded seconds after you realized what was going on, grabbing his neck and pulling him even closer. He cut the kiss as he was running out of air, you couldn’t think straight anymore. “You…?”

“I do” he knew exactly what you meant. You melted on his touch while your eyes cristalyzed. Then, he grew concerned “What’s wrong, love? Have I done something wrong?” asked while caressing your waist, drawing circles with his fingers to relax you.

“It’s just… I’m afraid to lose you” you sobbed “I was afraid of losing you as a friend before, goddamn Hobie you almost died in my arms. And now I’m afraid I do something stupid and fuck this up” you said looking away, but he pulled your face up for you to see him directly, running his thumb through your cheek to clean your tears.

“That’s not gonna happen, love”

“But what if-”

“I said no. I’m not planning on dying any sooner, and I assure you you’re not gonna get rid of me that easily” he pecked your lips. “Do you understand?” another peck, his eyes were analyzing yours, looking for an honest answer.

“ ‘kay” you agreed, putting your hand on top of his, leaning on his touch. “But I’m dead serious about the suit, I mean I fixed it but I won’t have you going through London unprotected like that” you frowned as your other hand caressed the side of his waist where the wound was.

“Whatever you say, love” he leaned back to properly kiss you, smiling with the touch of your lips.

This was a dream I had and I thought I should write it hehe :]

Since it’s my first time writing smth like this in English I would love to see if you have any suggestions to improve my writing!! Thanks for reading <33

Other works !!

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown one shot #a little angst but its kinda cute at the end #hobie brown angst #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n

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author-morgan · 2 years

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Title: Dragonknight Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!Reader Rating: T Summary: Even darkness seeks the light, or in which Daemon considers you his northern star —his guiding light. Warnings: Typically Westerosi shenanigans.

HE LOWERS THE blunted training sword and frowns as you bolt down the steps of the tower and around Ser Ryam the Dragon —not wishing to be the fair maiden in need of saving again. Instead, you take up another sword, too big and heavy, and stand stalwart in your choice. Prince Daemon Targaryen nigh pouts. He’s meant to be brave and valiant and save his lady from danger. “How am I to be your dragonknight if you won’t let me save you?” He laments.

“Two swords are better than one against this fearsome foe,” you tell him, but the game is already over then.

Ser Ryam Redwyne laughs and rises from his haunches, feeling the ache in his aging joints —Clement Crabb told him it was his turn to entertain the prince and his coconspirator. At least then it would keep the pair out of too much trouble. “She is not wrong, my prince,” he remarks. Even a knight of the Kingsguard has brothers-in-arms, seeking and accepting help does not make one less of a man or less of a prince.

“You make a fine dragon, ser,” you note, remembering your courtesies.

Ser Ryam Redwyne smiles at your compliment. “Thank you, my lady,” the Kingsguard knight says, giving a half-bow to you and Prince Daemon before taking his leave to rejoin the king.

Florence Fossoway enters the courtyard, passing Ser Ryam, with her hands clasped in front of her golden-rose belt. “Prince Daemon,” she greets, lowering her head in veneration before turning her attention to you —a rowdy girl who’d rather frolic about the Red Keep and the streets of King’s Landing with Daemon Targaryen instead of practicing her stitches and letters. Your mother’s lips purse into the slightest of frowns, recalling the conversation the prior eve with her lord husband and your father, Martyn Tyrell. Soon you’ll be too old to partake in such churlish activities. The prince may be able to do as he pleases, but you will not. “It’s time for your lessons,” she reminds you. Sewing, reading, writing, and learning the harp, among other things —all of which are considered comely talents in a good wife.

THE SUN’S WARMTH shines through the canopy of summer foliage to the forest floor of the Kingswood, painting a halo of light around where you and Daemon lay, looking skyward at the passing clouds. It’s a rare thing of late, being able to spend time with him. Too often, duties and lessons keep you and Daemon separated now that you’ve grown older —not quite children any longer, but not yet adults in the eyes of the lords and ladies of the court.

Still, you’ve heard the whispers about what the small council speaks of, and so has Daemon. He sees how you worry in silence, though —always twisting your hair or picking at the skin of your palms, always trying to be a good and dutiful daughter for House Tyrell. But now, more than ever, the whispers are no longer uncertain truths or mere rumors, and in the past weeks, a heavy weight has settled on your chest and shoulders.

You’ve grown quieter as time passes, and the midmorning fades into the afternoon. Daemon looks at you and frowns when he sees unshed tears budding in your eyes. He reaches for your hand, twining his fingers with yours, and squeezes. He’s always been your dearest friend, your dragonknight. "We’ll always be together.” You want to believe him —he sounds so certain of it. “I won’t let anyone take you.” That makes you smile, but Daemon still sees your doubt. “I’m a prince, remember?” And soon to be a dragonrider, he thinks. No one would be able to stop him then. He would be able to whisk you away to the far reaches of the land —places you’ve only ever imagined in stories.

“Promise?” It’s a trembling whisper.

“On the Old Gods of Valyria,” he swears, then looks back to the sky and the creeping storm clouds. “One day we can go there,” he says, voicing his thoughts aloud, “on dragon back.” He’s told you about Caraxes —the Blood Wyrm— and Aemon’s former mount. A wild, unpredictable beast with a will strong as any Targaryen’s, but Daemon’s always had an eye for Caraxes. The dragonkeepers oft let the prince into the great dome to see him and the others, though he’s yet to take the Blood Wyrm for his own mount. But soon he will and you’ll both be able to fly high and far and free.

THE HOUR IS late when he knocks on your chamber door, and it rouses you from an ill-fated attempt to sleep. “Daemon?” His silver-white hair is mused from flying, his tunic and pants ruffled too —as though he’s run from Rhaenys's Hill. You pull him from the hall and into your chambers by his sleeve. You’re both too old now for him to come to you in the night —people at court will talk if anyone sees, and the walls of the Red Keep have both eyes and ears.

“I leave in the morn to help Lord Dondarrion stamp out these rumors of an unruly brotherhood in the Dornish Marches,” Daemon tells you. You’ve heard your father speak of those rumors in the prior weeks, even if he doubted the claims —King Jaehaerys’s reign is marked by peace and prosperity. Lord Baelon says he’ll be granted knighthood and the Valyrian steel sword, Dark Sister, for quelling the disturbance. “Though, before I leave–” he opens his fist to reveal a glittering white stone strung on a finely crafted rope of silver. “It was meant for your nameday celebration,” Daemon explains, the feast is to be held in a week’s time, and he knows he will not return from the Stormlands so quickly.

He holds up his gift so you can see the finer details —how the dragon’s claw curls around the stone, stamped with a hundred tiny scales. It lifts his heart to see you smile and even more so when you turn away from him, gathering your hair to the side so he may drape the necklace over your head and fasten the clasp.

The firelight catches the gem, and it twinkles around your neck as a star pulled from the heavens. It’s what you are to him, what you’ve always been —a star. A guiding light to pull him from the darkness. Daemon steps toward you, nigh closing what little distance remains, and he reaches for you, the backs of his fingertips brushing along your neck and jaw. “Iksā ñuha qēlos,” he breathes, tender as any caress. The weight of the world lifts from your chest, and Daemon can still see the gleam of childhood memories in your eyes.

“Se iksā ñuha zaldrīzes azantys,” you tell him, slowly, enunciating each word, still uncertain you are speaking the old Valyrian tongue correctly. Daemon smiles for you, his exhale a breathy laugh before he rests his forehead against yours —you’d do almost anything to live in this moment for eternity. But time does not stop for a fool’s desire. His lips, thin and wind burnt, ghost over your forehead, then linger there before he steps back to take his leave.

You stop him before he can go, hand loosely curled around his forearm. Daemon turns back and finds your lips on his —hesitant, but soft and sweet. But it’s over too quickly. “For luck, my prince,” you explain, not wishing to meet his gaze as you feel warmth rush to your cheeks in the aftermath of such a reckless action. The prince’s fingers curl beneath your chin and he surges forward at the same time. His kiss tugs at the corners of your heart, leaving you to shatter when his hands, now splayed across your back, draw you closer. And when your arms twine around his shoulders, Daemon’s certain he won’t ever be able to let you go.

LEANOR FLIES TO the Driftmark astride Seasmoke and beckons you to accompany him back to the Stepstones —for Prince Daemon has won the war, but he has not done so unscathed and there is only one person he wishes to see. They call him a madman and they hail him as a hero as you move through the victorious war camp. There are tales of how he slew twenty men, how it was only the three arrows that slowed him, but even still he cleaved the Crabfeeder in two. A maester exits the tent, his pale robes stained with blood. “How is he?” You ask.

But the voice that answers in the maester’s place is familiar, albeit rougher than usual and still laced with pain —the last dose of milk of the poppy has yet to take its numbing hold. “Come ask him yourself,” Daemon groans, recognizing your voice and shadow.

One of Corlys’s men draws back the flaps of the patched tent for you to enter. He lies on the cot, torso bound in linen strips speckled with blood, and his hair still a knotted mess of dried filth from the battle. Daemon means to sit up, but you stop him with a firm hand pressed to his shoulder and kneel at his bedside instead. “Issa sȳz naejot ūndegon ao.” It’s been many long months since you’ve last seen him —and even then, it is only fleeting moments on Dragonstone or at Driftmark before he returns to war and uncertainty.

Daemon reaches for you, his rough fingertips trailing across your cheek and jaw, then down to your neck and the silver chain resting there. You’ve scarcely parted from his gift since receiving it —letting it serve as a reminder for all those at court that your heart already belonged to another. The stone pendant still shines like a star even after the years, just as you do, always guiding him home. You take his hand and kiss his bruised and cut knuckles. “Ñuha qēlos,” Daemon whispers, and it sets your heart aflutter all over again.

It’s instinctive to lean into him when he pushes himself from the cot. Then he kisses you until the cold sea breeze falls away and your body sings with warmth —kisses you until he feels something melt inside him that nigh hurts in some strange, exquisite way. It’s all his longing and dreams and sweet anguish, and it all transforms into something enchanting, and when Daemon parts, everything makes sense once more —feels right once more. He lays back, grimacing. The Crabfeeder’s arrows struck deep. Daemon takes a long, slow breath, his eyes burning into you. “Avy jorrāelan,” he says, and he’s a fool for not saying it sooner. You kiss the corner of his lips in response, for you’ve already spake your love for your dragonknight.

“I mean to take the Stepstones as mine own,” he tells you. They will call him King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea, and he will make his own mark on Westeros and the world beyond. But the stone seat and his bed will be cold without someone to share it with —he needs a queen to share the title and burden with. Daemon holds onto your hand and holds it close to his heart. “We can be together.” Together, you smile at the thought and rest your head on his chest. Together is all you’ve ever wanted.

High Valyrian translations: Iksā ñuha qēlos. - You are my star. Se iksā ñuha zaldrīzes azantys. - And you are my dragon knight. Issa sȳz naejot ūndegon ao. - It is good to see you. Ñuha qēlos. - My star. Avy jorrāelan. - I love you.

[ taglist: @mrsragnarlodbrok @erzsebetrosztoczy @certifiedlittleshit @safe-within-the-stars @holysmokesblog @sandronebabyy @qhbr2013 @dollvi3e @katie007123 @batmomphd @misskatiewrites @lillianastras @xinyourdreamsx @thewintersnoozer @beelanie @nenelysian @ksziggy @chemicalalice @oddaodd @prada-cat @madsmikkelsenss ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#Daemon Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen x Reader #Daemon x Reader #Daemon Targaryen Fanfic #House of the Dragon #Matt Smith #my writing #fic setting: pre HotD and up to the start of the War for the Stepstones #if you notice something wrong with my high valyrian translations plz let me know

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k-looking-glass-house · 9 months

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Sam Fairy Gala~ Flower and moonlight

Gah I'm a bit shy to share my "crazy" lore" about twisted wonderland, but you already know that I love making outfits.... Kinda the reason my mascot/"oc" can sew and create outfit.... I also have an obsession with the NRC staff.....hnnnnnnnn *help them*

Anyway in my lore Sam was an NRC student for only his 3rd years (around 17/18 y.o), getting his mage certificate and taking shortly after the shop! He already has his familiar K and tried all sort of way to get very rare items during his scholarship!

Mister Crewel was the almost futur NRC alchemy teacher, he tried an only girls school before thinking it would be only cutie, soft stuff and talk.... While it was only cat fight to panthers/lioness fight and love letters, with some crybabies moments (that's what he said!). He returned to his former school making Trein already tired about the situation! He tried each time to put every puppies in good stylish outfit!

Mister Crewel took a soft spot about Sam (knowing since his teenage days about Sam's grandfather and the shop) and vice versa. They help each other to get items they want (actually they kept from spilling:blackmailing the fact that they both smoke behind Mystery S shop, catching the other by surprise from time to time)~ And so Mister Crewel helped Sam getting some fairy powder, while K would help with sewing the fairies's dresses and they would both promote his fashion collection during the next Fairy Gala~

In the end the fairy gala is a success, K is revealed to eat blot (canon to her disney counterpart), Mister Crewel has fairy blood and can't stand alcohol and Sam believe in fairy tale and has one of the pure heart a fairy could sense (the Fairy Queen said so).

You can see more of it ....somewhere on my tumblr ah ah

Sam (NRC student)~ SR Moonlight De Vil suit

Summon Line: "Even shadows appear under the moon light, gnee hihihi" Groooovy!!: ....Finally....FINALLY HA HA HA!! I got the fairy powder! Home: I am ready, so are my friends on the other side gnee hihi~ Home Idle 1: I must say that when Mister Crewel told me that he could help....I didn't believe it at first! Looks like everyone has their secret! Home Idle 2: Fairies are truly something, my sisters* were right about them, back in our childhood stories! Home Idle 3: This night is truly something, between Mister Crewel "STAY!" and K making him berseck....*sigh* I must stay strong and not get eaten by shadows~ Home Idle - Login: Glitters! Jewel! Silk!! IN STOCK NOW! That's what I would say if I was a seller! Home Idle - Groovy: Thank you Ko-yousei-chan! Yes I'll give you Mister Crewel personal jewel designer contact~ Gnee hihi! Home Tap 1: Mister Crewel is part of the De Vil fashion's house, that's truly something, no wonder he has such style! Home Tap 2: If you want to attract fairies, be kind, be nice, be polite and pour a lot of glittery things! ....Also being handsome help! Home Tap 3: I don't need a bell to talk to fairies, we learned it with grandma it's important to talk to any kind of friends gnee hihi!! How? It's a secret, I'm not going to tell you! Home Tap 4: Arwwghhrr K please stop eating the flower, we'll get scold again by "KURUELLA"! Also stop eating the remain blot TOO!! Home Tap 5: I'll be sure to make good use of that fairy powder! Home Tap - Groovy: Ha ha ha! Somehow it was a good night! We had a lot of fun! Right everyone?!

.....we don't even see the lotus pattern huh....

-Credit-

Sam fairy gala (young version) concept done by me

The lanther bell was ref from "Handbook of ornament; a grammar of art, industrial and architectural designing in all its branches, for practical as well as theoretical use" (1900)

#twisted wonderland #twst #sam twisted wonderland #twst sam #k imeart

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theteasetwrites · 1 year

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The Dixon Problem

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 (The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning series) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: swearing, mild violence ❧ Word Count: 5k

❧ Summary: Not everyone is happy with the Dixons’ presence in the camp, especially Shane. When things go haywire, the only solution is a compromise, and to let Daryl know you care.

❧ A/N: I realize I’m posting this after a weird little argument over the ethics of zooming in on a man’s crotch but here we are. This is a fanfiction blog, believe it or not. Anyway, here’s another fic set in the same universe as The Beginning (I really like doing these ok), and this one takes place between Chapter 4 and Chapter 5. I really wanted to do some oneshots that would’ve happened before they got together because idk it just seems to cool to read about them before they kissed at the CDC and sort of build up to that. I find it fun to hint at their burgeoning attraction to one another, and how they’re both kind of in denial about their little crushes lol. We all know it was love at first sight. Also I loved writing Daryl fighting with Shane it was so fun. Daryl should’ve punched Shane in the show don’t @ me.

A deep huff escaped your lips as the back of your hand wiped the dripping sweat from your brow. The sun was a few hours from setting, but Georgia summers were unforgiving, and even a setting sun would prove to be dangerous if you didn’t hydrate.

Taking a sip of water from the crinkly plastic bottle, you watched Lori skillfully sew up the rips in one of Shane’s shirts. It was a skill you had neglected, but at one point, you were pretty good with a machine. Hand sewing was something else entirely.

“You’re so good at that,” you said. “How’d you learn?”

Lori smiled as she looked at you, staring in awe. “My mom sewed, my granny sewed, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my great granny sewed, too.”

“That’s sweet… Maybe you could teach me sometime?”

“Sure, but I thought you were trying to get Mr. Crossbow to teach you how to hunt?” She spoke with a crooked smile, on the verge of laughing. You failed to see what was so funny, frankly.

But mostly, you were embarrassed. The warm blush on your cheeks and the butterflies doing somersaults in your belly betrayed you, though you just pretended none of it was there.

“Well, he, uh, said I should learn how to fight first. He said he’d teach me that, though.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm… Why are you laughing?”

Lori lowered her head until her hair covered her face, but you heard a few snorts and giggles from beneath the dark curtain.

“You’re so cute,” she said. “That’s all.”

“Cute? Why am I cute?”

“You just are…” She leaned closer to speak in a quiet voice. “I bet Daryl thinks you’re really cute.”

You scoffed, trying to laugh it off as you awkwardly nudged her shoulder with yours. “Stop. That’s not funny. Not true, either. I think he finds me annoying.”

“Oh, really?” she asked. “What about the little rock he cracked open for you? That doesn’t sound like the actions of a man who’s annoyed.”

That “little rock” was now your prized possession. You had one half, and you’d let Daryl keep the other. It was a simple gesture, but it meant the world to you. That rock was a geode, something your father would’ve added to his extensive collection. Maybe you were thinking too much into it, and maybe it was cliché, but you liked to think that it represented the last beautiful thing in the world. You kept it by your cot, on full display so it was the first thing you saw each morning. Sometimes, the translucent purple shards would catch the new light that streamed through your tent in just the most perfect way.

“He was just being nice,” you said. “Daryl’s… really nice. I mean, he’s a little… grumpy, but he’s got a good heart. I can tell. I wouldn’t have brought him here if I didn’t think so.”

Before Lori could respond with another teasing quip, you both flinched at the sound of Daryl, the man you were just talking, and thinking a little too deeply, about. His voice was raised, one decibel away from being a yell. It sounded like it was coming from the center of camp, near Dale’s RV, so you both jogged over, anxious to see whatever was causing Daryl to yell a series of curse words and a few other words you couldn’t yet make out.

“Stupid cop!” you heard, now getting closer. “Who the hell do ya think you are?! This ain’t Miami Vice.”

You stumbled upon Daryl, with his chest puffed up and his hands moving vigorously along with his hostile words, in some kind of argument with Shane, who only shook his head with his hands on his waist as the bowman hurled insults his way.

“Listen, Dixon,” replied Shane, who was visibly also beginning to lose his temper, “we gotta maintain some order ‘round here. Now, I don’t give a shit ‘bout what you and your white trash redneck brother used to get up to in bumfuck nowhere, but there’s women and kids here, and I don’t want this shit ‘round ‘em.”

Oh, noble Shane, you thought to yourself, but then again, you still had no idea what the men were arguing about, so maybe he had a point. Still, you did take some issue to being compared to a child, but you weren’t about to jump in the middle of a fight between two burly, hotheaded men for the sake of feminism.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?! It ain’t nothin’, Merle goes off into the woods to do it! Ain’t no women or children gonna get hurt. You’re just as stupid as you look, Columbo.”

“It ain’t them seein’ the drugs I’m worried about,” Shane replied, getting closer to Daryl until their chests were nearly touching. “It’s you and your ugly ass brother.”

Drugs? You knew Merle had a stash of drugs, including crystal meth, and most others figured it based on, well, everything about him, but you didn’t think Shane would pick a fight with Daryl over it. Maybe Merle himself, but not Daryl. Merle wasn’t even there that day, having taken his turn to go hunting, though he never brought back nearly as much as his brother. You weren’t sure if it was because Merle wasn’t a very good hunter, or because he just didn’t care enough to bring back food for your group, but either way, it was clear which brother was better.

“Man, that’s bullshit,” he replied, narrowing his eyes at Shane. “You wanna see a threat then look in the mirror. There’ll be a big arrogant prick starin’ back at ya.” Daryl punctuated his sentence by shoving the other man backwards, but before Daryl could strut away as he planned, Shane shoved him back.

“Watch yourself,” Daryl warned, voice low and raspy. “I don’t want your pig blood on my hands.”

He tried to brush past Shane, but the man was fuming. He shoved Daryl back once more, knocking him to the ground.

A puff of dirt swallowed his body as you let out a small gasp of disbelief. No one in the group had gotten physical with anyone like this yet. Maybe it was only a matter of time before it happened. After all, a group of several strangers under incredible physical and mental stress in the middle of the end of the world was a recipe for disaster, but you’d hoped it wouldn’t happen so soon.

All you could register was the sound of Daryl’s grunting before he sprung back up to sock Shane across the face, disorienting him. He soon struck back, but Daryl ducked and delivered a blow to Shane’s stomach.

Shane had managed to deliver a few blows of his own, but at this point, all you could focus on was thinking of a way to break them up without getting hurt yourself.

“H-hey!” you shouted out, along with Lori and several other women who’d gathered around, yelling to the men to stop. “Stop it!”

Dale was frantically climbing down the ladder of the RV, then greeted the scene with wide eyes. “Hey, hey! Break it up!” He managed to get his arms between the two of them, but he could only keep Shane back. Daryl even tried to get around Dale so he could deliver one last blow to Shane’s face, but T-Dog came up behind and pinned the enraged man’s arms back.

“Get offa me!” he yelled to T-Dog, then turned his attention back to Shane. “I’m gonna beat your ass, you hear me, bacon bits?!”

Dale stood between them, holding his hands out to keep them both at bay. Their chests swelled with heavy, panting breaths as their faces molded into their own unique scowls. Shane’s was terrifying, much more than Daryl’s. His dark brown eyes didn’t need to narrow at all, they were just as terrifying in their wideness. His mouth wasn’t agape, it was sealed shut as the breaths pumped out of his flared nostrils. He stood completely still, like a ticking time bomb. You’d never been more terrified of the man.

Daryl paced back and forth for a few feet on each side of him, his face much more natural looking, but still enraged. At least you could make some sense of Daryl in his anger. He didn’t send a shiver down your spine like Shane did. Well, and maybe you were a little partial to Daryl now, since he’d shown you kindness. In any case, the awkward silence that permeated the stiff, humid air was excruciating.

“Just calm down,” panted Dale, arms still outstretched between them. “What the hell is going on here?”

Shane huffed before speaking. “I was just tryin’ to have a civil conversation about the drug use goin’ on in this camp.”

“Drug use?” questioned Lori. “No, no way. No drugs, not around the kids. That’s the last thing we need right now.”

Daryl turned to look at Lori, not with anger, but confusion. He seemed troubled, unable to reconcile something in his head. His eyes squinted shut as he wiped his nose, which had just begun to bleed from the punch. He spat a glob of pinkish saliva onto the dirt ground, then turned back to face Shane.

“Talk to Merle,” was all he said. His voice was quieter now, almost timid, but still with an air of defensiveness.

He turned back again, in the direction of his tent. You met his glance for a moment, at which point he seemed to stop in his tracks. His foot backstepped, flashes of blue still on you until they averted to the ground. When he regained his focus, he moved quicker, more determined. Still, his confidence seemed drained after he looked your way, but all you could pay attention to now was Shane, who was walking directly towards you, huffing and puffing.

“What the hell were you thinkin’, bringin’ those meth heads here, huh? You stupid or somethin’? I thought you were some kinda… librarian.” He ended his sentence with a sarcastic chuckle.

Before you could respond, Lori spoke up, and thank God she did. You were still petrified by Shane’s aggression, and Lori knew him from before the fall. Maybe he’d actually listen to her.

“Stop it, Shane,” she scolded in an almost motherly tone. Fitting, since the argument between him and Daryl seemed more like that of children than two grown men in their thirties. “It’s done. No point in arguing about it.”

For your part, you took a moment to collect your thoughts, then spoke to Shane with as much bravado as you could muster. “It’s because of Daryl that we’re not starving to death,” you said.

Dale stepped forward, hand outstretched slightly to gesture towards you. “That’s a good point, but what about the drugs?”

You shook your head profusely. “I don’t know anything about any drugs.” That wasn’t true, you knew Merle was getting high, and that he was a dealer, but that honestly didn’t matter to you much at this point. As far as you were concerned, everything that had ever separated the human race from each other was out the window. Drug addicts were no different from Mormons now. Granted, Merle could be unpredictable, and you hated him, frankly, but Daryl and Merle seemed like a package deal, so you’d have to deal with both of them if your group was to reap the benefits of having a skilled hunter.

Plus, you might’ve fostered a bit of admiration for him. Friendly admiration, of course.

“Well, I just ain’t havin’ no crystal meth in this camp,” replied Shane. “And I’m about this close to killin’ your buddy, so’s as far as I’m concerned, this is your problem to solve if you wanna keep them here.”

Diplomacy wasn’t your strong suit, but if it kept Shane from kicking out the Dixon’s, you’d try your best to find some common ground.

“Compromise,” Dale said with a nod. “(Y/N), you should talk to Daryl, ask him to talk some sense into Merle when he gets back to camp. We give them shelter, they get rid of the drugs.”

It sounded more like an ultimatum than a compromise, but you were perhaps the only person who’d had any meaningful contact with the slightly more tolerable brother, so you put aside your reservations to head to the Dixons’ camp, several yards away from the rest of the group.

He was on one knee as he chopped the head off a squirrel on the sawed log he was using as a butcher block. The sound of the axe slicing through the flesh and digging into the wood was so powerful that you flinched, alerting the hunter to your presence.

Though he didn’t look your way. He simply set aside the axe and continued skinning the creature as if you weren’t there.

“You want a piece of me, too, woman?” he asked. “Whatever you gotta say, I ain’t in the mood.”

You bit your lip as you stood still, thinking of what to say. Daryl was tricky, you knew that. Sometimes he was nice to you, and sometimes he wanted nothing to do with you. No one in the camp knew how to deal with him, really. You only knew a little because you somehow found yourself trying to ingratiate yourself with him, but why? You still weren’t exactly sure.

“May I sit down?” you blurted out, thinking that might be the first step to talking to him.

He looked up at you then, with a suspicious glare.

“Why?”

Just as you were still trying to get used to talking to him, he was still trying to get used to your desire to talk to him in the first place. Why would a woman like you want anything to do with a man like him, anyway? Surely you had an ulterior motive, though he couldn’t deny there was something genuinely kind and soft about your face. Maybe even, dare he say, pretty? Not just physically, though he was painfully aware of that, but through and through, you were quite lovely. Well, that’s how it seemed, anyway.

Merle always said that women couldn’t be trusted, that if they weren’t childlike and dumb, they were manipulative and cunning. Nothing else, nothing in between. Of course, Daryl had a hard time believing that. People weren’t that simple, and Merle’s authority on the topic of women was questionable at best. Still, old habits die hard, and maybe he was just a little skeptical of your intentions. After all, no woman or man had ever shown this much interest in talking to him.

Daryl was, for all intents and purposes, a loser. He still felt like one, though he had to admit, when you brought him to your camp, insisting that your group needed him, he did feel a small sense of real, genuine pride, for the first time in his life. Maybe he had something to offer, something good he could do. Maybe you really wanted him there, and he wasn’t just a loser with a bad temper and a meth head brother.

His deeply ingrained insecurity, though, told him otherwise, and that you were only kind to him because of what he could offer your group, not because you actually appreciated him. But then again, the rest of the group had all but ignored him since he arrived, and you were the one who’d spoken more than five words to him at a time. That had to mean something, right?

“I want to talk to you,” you said simply. “So, can I?”

He chewed his lip as he looked you up and down, as if inspecting you. Wordlessly, he nodded, then lowered his head again to focus on the mutilated squirrel.

As you cleared your throat, you sat yourself on a dinky camping chair across from the fire pit. Both of you were silent for a little while, with only the sounds of flesh tearing from the muscle of the little furry critters Daryl was skinning. You watched with furrowed brows, though at a certain point, you had to stop looking, otherwise you’d get a little woozy, so you lifted your gaze to the top of Daryl’s head, covered in short, choppy brown hair.

Surprisingly, just before you were about to say something, Daryl spoke first. “I ain’t no meth head,” he said abruptly. “I don’t touch that shit.” Not anymore, he thought, but something stopped him. Could it be… embarrassment? Maybe shame. All he knew was there was a part of him that cared what you thought, for some odd reason. He’d trained himself not to give a damn about anything, though it was in his nature to. Why was your presence bringing out his sensitivity? It was a blessing and a curse. It hurts to care, he’d always thought. Nothing good could come of it. He cared once, before he knew how cruel people could be.

“I never said you did.”

“S’what you all think,” he replied. “Y’all think I’m some kinda… stupid redneck bastard.” Wouldn’t be wrong, a voice inside him retorted.

“I don’t think that.”

He finally raised his eyes again, glowering at you. “You will.”

It shouldn’t have hurt you, but it did, just a little bit. “I bet you I won’t.”

He shook his head and stood up to retrieve the red rag that was often dangling from his back pocket. Wiping his hands, he nodded towards you. “What’d ya really come over ‘ere for? They send ya over to kick me out?”

You shook your head immediately. “No, no. Not at all. Just… You need to tell Merle to quit with the drugs.”

Daryl scoffed, almost a laugh. “Askin’ Merle to give up crystal’s like askin’ him to cut off his own hand. ‘Sides, ya don’t think I’ve tried? Ain’t no use in it. Might as well jus’ kick us to the curb ‘cause it ain’t gonna happen.”

His apathy frustrated you, and you let out an exasperated, now quite irritated, puff of air. “So you’d rather live out in the woods by yourselves than in a group, with people who will look out for you?”

“None of these people will look out for me,” he scoffed.

“Well, I would.”

He looked your way again, this time not suspicious, but confused. “Why’d ya bring me and Merle here in the first place? All ya got to show for it is bein’ yelled at and bossed around by that asshole Shane.” He spat the man’s name out in obvious distaste.

“I told you,” you said, “I thought you would be able to help us… And you saved me. I’d be dead right now if it weren’t for you.”

He lowered his head again, busying himself by cleaning between his fingers with the rag in the hopes of distracting you from the obvious blush on his cheeks. When he didn’t respond, you realized you hadn’t asked him a similar question.

“Why’d you save me, anyway?” you asked, your voice a little more quiet, as if afraid of him even hearing it.

After all, you were a complete stranger, why should he have helped you? What you knew from human nature was that people often only helped others if they knew there was something in it for them. True altruism was hard to come by, and often not evolutionarily beneficial. Those who helped others and put themselves in danger often died out before their lineage could carry on. Well, that was your vague memories of anthropology class resurfacing, but it still applied.

Indeed, you yourself hadn’t been acting out of true altruism. You had decided to bring Merle and Daryl into the fold because they were hunters, and they could benefit your group by providing your people sustenance. But Daryl’s motivations were less clear.

He swallowed hard as thought for a moment, himself now forced with the reality of facing that question. Why did he help you?

For the next several moments, he transported himself to that day just a month ago, when he was trudging around in the woods outside Atlanta, listening to Merle ramble on about some drunken memory, a relic of his “glory days” that he seemed unable to forget about. They had no destination, no idea where they were going. They’d tried the refugee center in the city, but that had been overrun about as soon as it was set up. Merle was quite content to rough it, and so was Daryl, so long as there weren’t flesh-eating monsters roaming around.

When he heard the rather faint sound of a woman screaming, somewhere ahead in the maze of aspen trees dotting the humid forest, something in him switched, and though he remembered the muffled sound of Merle’s protesting, all he could hear at the time was the scream getting closer and closer.

Soon he was in a small clearing, setting sight on a decrepit creature. Below it were two squirming legs, belonging to the screaming woman who was just inches away from becoming something’s lunch.

Without hesitation, he lifted his bow to shoot, snagging the creature in the head until it fell less than gracefully onto your chest. Pushing the body off, you faced him, mouth panting and eyes hazy with tears.

He tried to think of what he thought then, but it was difficult to put himself in that position again. He only remembered your face, how scared you were. You seemed so fragile, and yet somehow brave enough to look him in the eye. Most of all, you were peculiar to him, different from anyone or anything he’d seen before. Of course, there was nothing particularly strange looking about you, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. You were just… special, with a calming aura of warmth around you, something he was instinctively drawn to for whatever reason.

So, how was he supposed to explain that? You seemed special, important, warm… Creepy. He knew that would’ve sounded creepy. He was already embarrassed from Shane’s display earlier, and his stomach stung to think of you seeing that cop strike him across the face, to appear weak. Once again, he wondered why he cared in the first place.

He finally settled for a somewhat satisfactory explanation. “S’just what people do.”

Indeed, he would’ve done it for anyone. That wasn’t the issue Daryl struggled with, he knew right from wrong, for the most part. He struggled with understanding why you looked at him the way you did, and why he found himself wanting to keep you safe even after the creature attacking you was long dead.

At least you seemed happy with that answer, as one corner of your lips upturned into a small smile. “Well, I am sure some people wouldn’t have done anything. I’m really grateful… And I really don’t want you to go. Merle… I will put up with him if it means you stay here, but if you could please talk to him, try to get him to at least hide the drugs better and maybe go further away from camp to do it, I’d be even more grateful.”

Though he had no idea how he was going to get Merle to agree to changing anything about himself, he couldn’t deny that you were convincing. Something about your wide, almost pleading eyes. Somehow, making you happy seemed to make him happy, too.

“I’ll try,” he said. “But I ain’t promisin’ anything. Merle don’t care ‘bout what I got to say.”

“Well, he should,” you said as you stood to your feet. “He’s your brother… I have a brother, too. We used to talk all the time, though we sort of lost touch before all this.” You gestured around vaguely, ending your sentence with a small nervous chuckle.

Daryl almost didn’t speak, didn’t want to ask what he was thinking, but the look on your face as your lips began to droop and your eyes became vague made him wonder if maybe you needed to talk about it.

“Where is he?” he asked simply, though he immediately began to regret it when he noticed you shifting awkwardly where you stood. “I mean… I, uh… Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you replied with a shake of your head. “No, it’s fine. He’s, well… I don’t know where he is. Last time we talked he was in Atlanta. Actually, that’s why I was headed there when it happened.”

It seemed to be a universally agreed upon signifier. The fall, the turn, the apocalypse, the plague… Everyone called it something different, but what it all came down to was The End, or The Beginning, depending on who you asked.

“Sorry,” was all he could reply, though he found himself going further, speaking more than he normally would’ve. “Hope he’s all right.”

That meant more to you than anything anyone had ever said to you since the world turned. You hadn’t told anyone about your brother, and you weren’t sure why you decided to tell Daryl, but it felt right. In a world where everything was suddenly wrong, lots of things still felt right, all of which had to do with him. Strange.

“Thank you. I do too. He means a lot to me… I’m sure your brother means a lot to you, too, so I understand why you care so much about him. He’s lucky to have you as a brother.”

If Daryl wasn’t so strangely calmed by your presence in this moment, he might’ve protested to the assertion that Merle meant a lot to him, but he supposed he really did, whether or not Daryl liked it.

As he shifted his shoulders, he raised his hand to scratch his neck, chewing the inside of his bottom lip all the while. The unique little nervous mannerisms he had were already becoming part of your ever-growing encyclopedia of quirks Daryl displayed, and you had to say you found that quite endearing. Indeed, you truly felt that Daryl could become a friend. You wanted him to be a friend.

It reminded you that Daryl spent almost all of his time alone. Whenever Merle was gone or at the edge of camp getting up to his illicit activities, Daryl was by himself. You figured he had to get lonely, and surely the sole company of a man like Merle would eventually drive him insane, even if he was his brother.

“Daryl?” you asked, moving closer as you tried to telepathically direct his gaze up at you.

He did, and a flash of silvery blue eyes that caught little sparkles of light from the sun looked up at you. His eyes were quite deep set and narrow, making them seem at first glance to be cold and uninviting, but that wasn’t really the case at all. Now that you saw them in full view, there was mystery there, something waiting to be revealed. You had a feeling whatever it was, it was something lovely. Your curiosity made you eager to get to the bottom of it.

“Yeah?”

Even the strange softness of his often rough, gravelly voice struck you. As he licked his chapped lips, you found yourself trailing your eyes to his light stubble, sparse on his cheeks but more concentrated around his lips, which weren’t particularly full, but beautifully sculpted as if by delicate, intentional little hands. You found his face much more tolerable than his brother’s. Handsome, even. Perhaps not an A-list Hollywood movie star (certainly no one so clean-cut as Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt, both of whom you had at one point hung posters of on your closet door in the mid-nineties) but he had been blessed with good proportions and a pleasant visage that you only dwelled on for a moment until your subconsciousness took the image into its darkest recesses. The last thing you needed to do today was to admire a man’s physical appearance, though it did tempt you for just a few seconds. Maybe a few more.

“You should really join us for dinner tonight,” you said. “You know, around the fire… Dale’s going to make something special. I have no idea what, he says it’s a surprise.”

When his breath seemed to hitch and his muscles flexed in seemingly anxious response, you quickly tried to explain yourself. “I mean, I know it’s awkward, with the Shane thing… but Shane has watch during dinner tonight. Maybe you can just… talk to me, and Dale, Andrea, Amy, Glenn, Jacqui… We all sort of congregate, talk a little bit. I’m sure they’d like to get to know you more.”

He found himself wondering how to respond, how to tell you that he hated talking, especially to people he hardly knew. Then again, he liked talking to you. That was clear to him.

“Maybe… I dunno.”

Though you didn’t want to pressure him, it was hard not to try to convince him. You were shy sometimes, too, but the older you got, the more you realized that you needed people, and that couldn’t be more evident than right now, when people were hard to come by.

“All we have is each other,” you said. “You told me that the world’s never gonna be like how it was, and you’re right. We should never take people for granted anymore.”

He’d never wrap his head around the way you spoke sometimes, how you could be so articulate and intelligent, and at other times, so high-strung or bubbly or aloof… You were about as hard to read to him as he was to you.

“I’ll try,” was all he replied.

“That’s all that matters.”

When he briefly lurked around the fire that night, exchanging a few brief words with Dale and Andrea (and you, of course), you felt like you’d gotten somewhere further with the temperamental hunter.

He didn’t stay for long, and hardly ate any of Dale’s “mushroom mash,” but it was something, and though the day started with a fight between Shane and Daryl, it ended with the latter feeling just a little more welcome.

Most of all, you had no regrets about bringing Daryl Dixon to your camp. You had a feeling it was the right thing to do.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Masterlist

#the walking dead #the beginning series #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon fanfic #twd fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus fanfiction #the beginning oneshot #theteasetwrites oneshot #theteasetwrites fanfiction #theteasetwrites series

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solarpunkani · 4 months

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this is a personal vent but its a somewhat anti-capitalist/anti-grind culture vent so its going here but like

I wish I could have one (1) hobby that just stays a hobby and remains a fun lil heehee hobby without one or both parents desperately trying to get me to monetize it.

Like I am JUST learning crochet. I have been crocheting for less than a MONTH. I have ONE finished project. And my mom is ALREADY sending me lil instagram reels like 'heehee this is how much I made from my ~crocheting business~ in the month of October' and sending me a bunch of eyes emojis and dollarsign eyes emojis like, first off my beloved mother that woman has been crocheting for YEARS maybe even DECADES and I just picked it up three tuesdays ago, but second of all I don't necessarily wanna just make a buncha shit and then sell it online!!! I wanna make stuff for me and maybe friends and family if they ask really nicely, but nooooo now mom wants me to Perfect the Craft so I can sell on etsy and instagram and whatever.

This would be a Mild Annoyance if this wasn't simply the first in a long string of 'what if you monetized this hobby.' Which, granted, sometimes I do it to myself, but I'm really trying to stop.

Oh you like gardening? What if you monetized it! Sell vegetables at the farmers market! Sell cut flowers at the farmers market! Start your own small business! What do you mean, you mostly do it for personal enjoyment and environmental reasons? Just grow a bigass plot of zinnias, forget about your other stuff, and sell sell sell!!!

Oh, you like creative writing? You like writing novels and short stories and fanfics?? Go be a copywriter! Go be an adjunct professor, because you're totally qualified! What? You don't wanna write manuals and advertisements? But you're such a good writer, go make money off of it!

Oh you wanna learn sewing?! Learn sewing!! Quickly!! Not for your own personal enjoyment of the craft, I'm gonna start a business selling bags and YOU"RE gonna help me!!! I'm not asking permission btw this is me telling you--

Don't even get me started on the absolute slog that has been trying to become an animator and selling art commissions because I like drawing and animating and how that's been going for me, or the fact that my mom seems to think Masters Degree in Animation = Qualified Graphic Designer, which is not the same thing.

It's just exhausting. I would like to be allowed to have one hobby that doesn't immediately read as dollar signs in my parents eyes, yknow?

anyways capitalism grind culture is a hell scape thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

#out of queue #ani rambles #im turning off reblogs because this is literally just a vent into the void tysm

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thesleepy1 · 9 months

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Bun(s) In The Oven

A/N: What am I doing instead of sleeping? A) Working, B) Writing. or C) Waking Lord Cthulhu from his slumber so that he may reclaim the throne. If you guessed B, then you’d be correct! Hahaha, I really do need sleep. And they call me the Sleepy One! Anon Requested. (Also, I haven’t had the time to sit down and watch season three yet, so please no spoilers.)

Pairings: Eskel x Reader

Summary: You were supposed to have nine months to prepare. You were counting on those nine months. You were not a procrastinator by any means, but with something as important as having a baby you were going to make good use of all the available time to prepare for the arrival of your new baby. Nine months. Not six.

Or, “Could you write something for eskel when his significant other is in labour. I don’t know if he’d be chill and prepared or in total panic mode. Either wait I’d like to read it 😂

Word count: 930

Warnings: birth?

At six months pregnant you were past the point of still coming up with names for your little one and were well into the process of setting up the nursery. In the beginning, there was fear that the baby would not survive. Miscarriages were common in the village you grew up in and a human pregnant with a witcher baby was unprecedented. Anyone pregnant with a witcher baby was unheard of. There was no way of knowing what to expect.

When you and Eskel had first learned of the little seed that was sprouting in you, you both laughed it off as some practical joke. It wasn’t until months later that you realized there was something going on. The bump proved that there wasn’t some prank being played on you. You were well and truly pregnant.

First there was denial. That was to be expected.

Then came the acceptance.

After that it was just full blown panic.

You were a bard for heaven’s sake. A baby was not on your bucket list. When you had first met Eskel and decided to tag along on his adventures, you did not realize that having a baby along the way was a part of it.

But after that…?

It was quite nice.

Sure it was unexpected and neither you nor Eskel had planned for it, but it really wasn’t a bad thing. The pregnancy didn’t stop you from doing what you loved. You still performed and sang to your heart's content. In some taverns you even made more coin. Some were from concerned onlookers and some were from others who got off at the sight of you. Either way, money was money.

And Eskel. Dear sweet Eskel. He grew to love you even more than before if that was possible. It was no worry of yours that Eskel didn’t truly love you. He showed it to you each and every day. But after the two of you had gotten over your panic, he became the most doting and kind and loving witcher possible. It could have been sickening if you didn’t enjoy every last moment of it.

So yes. You were past the point of panic and name searching. With something around thirteen more weeks to go, you were still working on adding things to the nursery. Most of the essentials were there already. Now was just time to decorate and fill the room with as many toys as you possibly can. No one was going to stop you, least of all Eskel.

If anyone were looking for the two of you, then they could find you in the nursery happily sewing up another stuffed animal or embroidering yet another piece of clothing. Eskel could be found doing the same. Despite his large frame, he had such a talent for needle work.

You were working on turning shorn wool into wool when you suddenly felt a wetness burst from you followed by intense pain. Before you realized what was going on with your body Eskel leapt up from his seat.

“I need to get a healer,” Eskel announced, his breaths coming in unevenly. “I can’t leave you here alone—someone needs to get the healer. Lambert! Geralt!”

That was another thing. Eskel’s brothers were there every step of the way. And they were going to be there for this step too, despite its premature timing.

“Are you sure? I—we still have weeks, don’t we?” you asked him, face grimacing in pain despite your disbelief. “We-we haven’t finished processing the food for stores or-or finished all the clothes—” You were cut off by an unbearable pain flaring from within. “Dear gods, heavens above. The little one is coming. The little one is coming!”

“Geralt! Lambert! Vesemir!” Eskel called out to his brothers. His voice boomed in the hallways, sounds bouncing off the stone hallways and carrying towards the other witchers in the keep. Before long, they came running to your aide.

“Healers. We need to go find a healer.” Eskel was firm. He left no room for argument. Lambert rushed out back the way he came. He was the smallest and fastest of the witchers. He would reach the town at the bottom of the mountain first and hurry back with a healer or two. Eskel had to believe that his brother would.

“Geralt,” Eskel began.

“Anything you need,” Geralt replied.

What happened next was beyond you. The pain was indescribable. You knew that you would not remember much of the process. At least, that was what the other mothers had told you. They said that the mind would forget so the body continued.

However, right there and then you were unbearably hurt. And you were vocal about it.

“Great saints above! Get—” you were screaming. It stung the witcher’s ears but you didn’t have a spare thought to care. “Get them out of me!”

“T-them?”

It was Geralt who faltered at that.

Years later you would all sit around a table topped with a hearty meal. Roasted elk, mashed sweet potatoes, and mead would be overflowing. Altina and Anna would be given cider that had not ripen into the sort that would make them dizzy and drunk. Everyone would laugh at the way that Geralt had stuttered at the prospect of two.

Eskel would laugh the loudest. For he was the proudest of the fact. He was a father of two beautiful, healthy girls and he couldn’t be happier.

No one will bring up the fact that Eskel had almost fainted when Anna's head was crowning and the healer was still twenty minutes away.

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kuraitsune · 2 years

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WiTH YOU, AND ALWAYS

PARiNGS - ...Ike Eveland, Shu Yamino, & Alban Knox(seperate) x GN!reader

MENTiONS - ...just you and the already mentioned boys~

SUMMARY - ...how would he react if he found out you enjoyed collecting figurines and plushies?

READER'S PROFiLE - ...you are someone who enjoys collecting figurines and plushies! as stated above <3 you're also a part of NIJISANJI EN for all hcs! established relationship with them

DiSCLAiMERS - hcs! in no way am i a professional writer, i just like english lol. please know that these writings are a work of fiction and are the appearance and persona of the character! not the person behind the screen.

IMPORTANT NOTE - hi hi! by the time i post this, it's my birthday! so i decided to write something of my oshis~ :) please enjoy~

ike would ask you about every figurine that you have!

because yk, he also collects them

but when he discovered that you also kept plushies on display, the novelist is in adoration for you

thinks it's cute that you collect them <3

you also had the nijipuppets that the corp sent you

you sometimes put your oshis in a shrine ritual-like thing(i'm watching y'all)

when you two are on an off-collab, you'd show ike each figure and plush you have with a fiery passion

he can't help but smile at your ranting on and on about your hobby

he might even bring a few of his carefully packed in his bags

the true question is, would he buy a figure or plush for you if you absolutely wanted it?

yeah, 100%

he understands the desire for them and he'd ask you "if you were able to get any figure or plush you want, what would it be?"

just for scientific reasons, yk

and then a box arrives at your door, with a note

"you may have said that you didn't want me to spend money on you, but i say this is a gift from me to you, darling"

shu thinks it's adorable that you have so many figurines and plushies just because they make you truly happy in your home!

you had teased him a bit with a shu figure that you commissioned and put the figure in a carefully decorated place in your room

he didn't know what to say(then again, he loves your loyalty and pride in the sorcerer)

he also learned that you enjoyed custom plushies and figures more than regular ones

only because you thought that if it was customized, it'd be one of a kind and be more special!

when he visited you, you had a beautiful display of the entirety of NIJISANJI EN, sorted by group! you had each member have one plush and one figure each

his eyes sparkled, amazed at your dedication to the agency!

since custom figures/plushies are much more expensive than regular ones, he thought maybe he'd give you something just from him!

it took about 2 months for it to be made but he assured you that it was going to be worth it

the package came in when you and shu had another off-collab

with his iconic v-shaped smile, he watched you fondly as you open the package, revealing an adorable figure of the two of you by a cherry blossom tree

"for you, babe. your dedication never fails to amaze me"

alban supports your love for plushies and figures!

it was surprising to him that you actually made them yourself!

what a talent, huh?

he likes watching you focus hard on making a certain plush so that it didn't look weird or out of place

thinks it's mesmerizing

sneakily asks for you to make one for himself

rolling your eyes, you really can't say no to him. so you obliged anyway

as you carefully cut out the required fabrics on stream, alban tenderly watches your every movement

even though he literally could just watch you in your sewing room

but it's okay, because he can support you through the chat <3

the phantom thief specifically watches how smooth your movements are

only to be working on something very special, just for you!

you can't even stop him from working all throughout the day(with breaks, per your begging for him to take breaks)

it's like how focused he is with playing a certain rhythm game, his bi-colored hues follow his every movement

legit just cat behavior(you wouldn't mind anyways)

when it was the day he gives you the plush

he'd be all smiles and laughs before he actually gives you it fully

"babe! you're so talented and amazing... so i made you a chibi plush of myself! hehe~"

NOTE - lol i forgot about the footer message, but here we are again! thank you for the 100+ followers since i've been writing here on tumblr~ i'll try my best to keep the flow of writing~

and it's also my bday today as stated above already! if anyone also has a bday today, happy birthday to you too! have a great week to all :D

DO NOT: repost or copy any of @kuraitsune's works! sharing is fine with credits.

#kura writings | 🦜#nijisanji en #nijien #nijisanji en x reader #luxiem #luxiem x reader #ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #noctyx #noctyx x reader #alban knox #alban knox x reader

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azulas-lightning-bolt · 1 month

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so a couple people saw my post about the genocide in Palestine and how despite mandatory education on the genocide of the Holocaust the same systematic erasure of a culture is being actively funded by the ‘land of the free’ and many other places who claim to care about human life.

I’m not an adult. I’m not even in high school yet. How is it that I can sit at my phone and have a greater sense of injustice for these people, these innocent children and young adults and desperate people who are just like us, than the men who have lived six times my age? How is it possible that I have more empathy for the people being brutally tortured and murdered and exterminated like pests while not able to conceive what that suffering looks like than the people who have initiated it?

How is it that a man can burn himself alive screaming ‘Free Palestine’ and people still cannot find it in themselves to see Palestinians as human beings? It is not a war on Hamas Israel is ‘fighting’ anymore—it never was. And (correct me if I’m wrong) is Hamas not a group of the product of Isreal’s oppression, extermination, and expulsion of the people of Palestine for the last over 70 years? Does their land being stolen not remind you of the tears shed by Native Americans when Andrew Jackson was indifferent to their plight? Does the rounding up and bombing not remind you of innocent Jews herded into gas chambers and promised a shower (they said they would get food) and met only with death?

A week after I learned about the genocide of Palestinians, I looked at the list of deaths. It was too long for me to scroll through in an hour, and I was crying so hard I couldn’t continue. I promised myself I would think of one girl every day— Dima Khamis Sedqi Al-Madhoun. I never looked at her number. She deserves more than that. She was my age, a child, when she was murdered like an animal. What if she had liked to draw? Do you think she had a passion for writing? Maybe she was sewing a friend of hers a gift for their upcoming birthday, but she never got the chance to finish. She never will.

There was a girl named Ida who died in the Holocaust. I never looked at her number. She deserves more than that. She was my age, a child, when she was murdered like an animal. Her little brother survived. She never got to come home to him. Do you think she liked to draw? Do you think she had a passion for writing? Maybe she was sewing her brother a gift for his upcoming birthday, but she never got the chance to finish. She never will.

Are these girls really so different? They’re not very different from me. What sets me apart from them, so that I am still alive but they were not granted such a simple right? How is that fair?

I’ll still be posting stuff about my interests. But my heart and my mind are on Palestine and will be until the genocide stops and they are fully aided with recovery and every rotten hearted asshole who condemned them is burning in hell and even after that, because my heart and my mind are on every human being who is just like me in the heart that beats under their skin with passion and love and life and every human being who has been unfairly stripped of it.

Free Palestine. How much longer will the world turn their eyes away?

#palestine #free gaza 🇵🇸#free palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #stop the Palestinian genocide

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megamindsecretlair · 3 months

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Get To Know Me Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @nerdieforpedro 😚 for anyone who cares, here's a bit about me! 🥹

General rule: I may overshare in dms and authors notes sometimes but Im generally a private person 🤣 to the point Ive lost friends over it. ive been working with my coworkers for 3 years and they dont know shit about me 🤣 I juss really love yall and feel safe with yall so here we go!

1. Were you named after anyone?

No. My mom didnt want our names to announce who we were on applications so we all got regular smegular names. My name is of Irish origin so my yt folks customer service voice got ppl thinkin I have red hair. I mean....technically yes but its buried under my braids 🤣

2. When was the last time you cried?

At the end of The Marvels. The first end credit had me in real, actual tears. On a more serious note, I last cried before my grandma died. Yall, its fn hard being a caretaker. I was not built Ford Tuff.

3. Do you have kids?

*ahem* 🗣🗣 fuck no! 🤣🤣🤣 I dont even have nieces or nephews. Kids make me nervous and Im pretty sure they can smell the fear on me. 🤣

4. What sports do you play/ have you played?

I played basketball and softball in HS. I love and miss softball all the time even though my big behind HATES running.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Sarcasm is one of my love languages. I put that shit on everything 🤣 Physical Touch is my main one since we sharing.

6. What is the first thing you notice about people?

Ooof, tough. Depends. Some quirk like glasses, lisp, moles. How they walk/talk, the way they laugh. I am a lurker by trade. Overly shy kid and writer by nature will do that to ya.

7. What is your eye color?

Dark brown. When that sun hits 🫠🫠🫦

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

I am a HUGE scaredy cat. I dont do scary movies nothin! Happy endings over here! 🤸🏽‍♀️ I will enjoy a thriller but only behind my hands and mostly starring Matthew Lillard.

9. Any talents?

.....no? I have a bunch of useless knowledge or trivia that no one asked for but ya gonna get 🤣 . Juss realized writing is considered a talent 😭 so that too 🤣

10. Where were you born?

US, West Coast baybeee

11. What are your hobbies?

Obvs, writing. Reading, sewing, cons, tarot, tv, listening to music, video games (xbox, switch, PC girlie) , Marvel. Marvel is a hobby. I will talk your ear off. That is both a threat and a promise 😚

12. Do you have any pets?

I have two gorgeous Boston Terriers who run me into the ground every day. Idk why my mom thought two was okay 🫠🫠 my Black ass tide 🥲 👏🏽

13. How tall are you?

Fun sized 5'3 and a half 👏🏽👏🏽🤣 pear shaped. I got ass for days but in the itty bitty titty committee. 😭😭😭😭😭

14. Favorite subject in high school?

Definitely English. My English teacher was so fine 🥲🥲 thats not WHY it was my fave but can ya blame me 😩 I loved reading the books but I hated the themes they shoved down our throats. What if that wasnt MY interpretation of the book??? Hmmm? Some faves include: Their Eyes Were Watching God (Teacake 🥵🥵🥵), Brave New World, Bright Lights Big City (probably where my love of second person is from) , Bronx Masquerade, and The Outsiders. And FUCK the Great Gatsby. If I hear about that damn green light one 👏🏽 mo 👏🏽 fn 👏🏽 time 👏🏽😩😡 and FUCK Of Mice and Men, he aint have to do all that in the end. And DOUBLE FUCK I Know Why the Caged Bird sings. Turned my stomach when she described the SA. Lemme stop 🥴

15. Dream Job?

Writer. I will publish, I will be successful, and I will live the life I want. I claim it 😩 on my Octavia Butler, NK Jemisin, Danielle Allen shit 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

Whew! That was fun 😭🤣

No pressure tags: @mybonafidefeelings @bratzmaraj @braverthanthenewworld @multiversefanfics @chaos-4baby @westside-rot @saturn-rings-writes @notapradagurl7 @wide-nose-and-wonderful @blowmymbackout @blackerthings @harmshake @targaryenvampireslayer and who wants to do one. I love learning bout my moots.

#megaminds tag game #get to know me tag game #get to know megamind #im funny sometimes #chronically online emo kid #dass me #i dont cry that often #nothing against it #i juss hate how puffy my face gets #my forehead big because im a people watcher 😭#glasses wearer too #tag game #tumblr tag game #know your moots #join in #i love learning bout folks

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angellayercake · 5 months

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WIP Whenever

Instead of working on everything else I should be working on I have become obsessed with this idea and I can't think of anything else. So far too long ago @sweatandwoe tagged me in a WIP post so here we go.

Papa Nihil travels the USA with his three sons posing as a preacher to ingratiate themselves with rural Christian communities to sew discord and spread sin. One summer finds them staying with a family, helping them work their struggling farm in exchange for somewhere to stay.

I'm tagging @ghostchems, @ramblingoak, @da-rulah and @meowsaidmissy if you have any wips you would like to share (no pressure of course 💜 Little taster below the read more and the playlist can be found here because I really am in a hole with this fic 🙃

The clink of ice cubes and the gravel crushing under your feet would have given you away long before you had rounded the side of the barn if not for their argument. Well you suspect they are arguing, you can never be certain due to them always speaking Italian to each other. It was hard to tell what kind of conversation they were having most times, what with their loud voices and waving hands no matter what was going on. You pause just out of sight watching the glasses of lemonade your Mother had forced you to bring out to them as they worked in the afternoon heat begin to sweat. The condensation slid down the glass shallow pools collecting at the bases on the precariously balanced tray as you listened.

‘In ogni caso, perché ti preoccupi dei sentimenti di tutte queste stupide ragazze?’ (Anyway, why do you care about the feelings of all these stupid girls?) The words while foreign sounded dismissive and rude as though this heated discussion was already well underway before your arrival. That was Mr Emeritus you were sure, he often took that tone when he was talking to his sons.

‘Non chiamarli così!’ (Don't call them that!) Terzo. You push aside any thoughts about why you recognise his voice so easily. He sounds irritated, his voice clipped and angry even in his more melodic mother tongue. Interest now truly piqued, you wish not for the first time that you were more cultured, more intelligent so you could have learned another language and be able to follow the conversation.

‘Prima la scoperai, prima potremo uscire da questa discarica.’ (The sooner you fuck her, the sooner we can get out of this dump.) The sneer in his voice is so obvious it almost makes you cringe like you are on the one on the receiving end but he is almost cut off by the intended recipient, if the scuffling sound you hear is Terzo lunging at his father as you suspect.

‘Fermare! Smettetela tutti e due. Corrompere la gioventù cristiana non significa che dobbiamo lasciare dietro di noi una scia di cuori spezzati. Il suo modo funziona, devi fidarti di lui.’ (Stop! Stop it, both of you. Corrupting Christian youth does not mean we must leave a trail of broken hearts in our wake. His way works, you have to trust him.) While spoken loud enough to cut through the fight that was clearly about to break out, the even placating tone must belong to Primo, ever the mediator of the family you had noticed.

‘Non sono più gli anni Sessanta, vecchio mio. Ci vuole qualcosa di più che sussurrare sull'amore libero per aprire loro le gambe.’ (It's not the sixties anymore, old man. It takes more than whispering about free love to open their legs.) And that must be Secondo, his deeper voice was tinged with a droll note which could be directed at any one of his father or brothers, maybe even all three. You liked him the best so far even if his sardonic humour had almost gotten you in trouble already.

‘Ah, parli della troia e lei appare.’ (Ah, you talk about the bitch and she appears.) You round the corner just as your arms start to urgently complain about you standing there with your laden tray and just in time to witness the last of their cross words.

‘Vaffanculo!’ (Fuck you!) He spits at his father, stabbing his pitch fork into the soft dirt as if he is about to storm off but he stops short when he spots you. His expression is pinched, his brow furrowed enough for lines of frustration to form. He pushes his hair back from his face, smoothing it back into place as he schools his expression into a casual smile. He is good, probably the best you have seen squashing all his true feelings behind a mask but you can see the tension still in the corner of his eyes and the tightness of his smile. It isn’t your business though so you plaster a smile on your own face and announce the reason for your interruption.

‘Refreshments for the workers!’ You offer the tray to Mr Emeritus first, your Mother’s hosting rules so deeply ingrained now you wouldn’t dare to do otherwise. He takes a glass from you looking at the drink then you with an air of distaste that makes your skin prickle uncomfortably. ‘It’s lemonade sir, that Mama made fresh this morning.’ He takes a cautious sip before gesturing you away.

‘Thanks to you and to your Mother, Signorina,’ Primo says, accepting his glass. Secondo takes his with a nod and pull of his lips that could be mistaken for a smile which you return in kind. Which leaves only the youngest Emeritus. He is watching you having settled into his casually relaxed demeanour leaning against his still stuck pitch fork. Something makes you pause until he gestures you towards him.

‘I take it this one is for me, si?’ Your mouth inexplicably goes dry as you make your way towards him. Now your job is almost complete, you have the opportunity to take him in properly. A stubborn lock of his hair, despite his best efforts has fallen loose sticking to the sheen of sweat covering his brow, in fact his youthful face positively glows with perspiration so you hurry the last few steps towards him, needing to provide him with a means to ease his heat inspired discomfort. You avoid his eyes as he takes his glass, relieving you of your burden at last and you tuck the underside of the tray against your chest in a futile attempt to shield yourself from his piercing gaze.

He barely hesitates bringing the glass to his full lips, tipping his head back, greedily drinking the cool refreshment. He finishes it quickly with a satisfied sigh and he hands the glass back to you, his fingers grazing yours as he makes the exchange. A drop escapes the corner of his mouth slipping off his chin before he can catch it. You can’t help but follow its progress down his neck and into his open shirt collar where it settles where his chest hair begins. For some reason you find yourself transfixed as the vivid image of you closing the distance between you and following its path with your mouth fills your mind.

‘Thank you Canaria.’ His voice abruptly snaps you out of your trance with a gasp and you can feel your blood rushing into your cheeks as you register the impropriety of your thoughts. You realise all four of them are now watching you and you pray that they hadn’t noticed your momentary distraction. They had all finished their lemonade so you shakily collect their glasses worried that the tray will slip from your grip at any moment. With a final weak smile you make your escape.

‘Ci vorrà una settimana prima che tu possa indossare le sue mutande.’ (It'll be a week before you're in her underwear.) You hear Mr Emeritus mutter as you leave but you don’t wait to hear anymore. You need to get a hold of yourself and to do that you need to be as far away from him as possible.

#terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo #papa emeritus iii #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfiction #my writing

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dreamstate4you · 5 months

Text

New beginnings.

chapter 0.3

They all finally left the little village. Each of them a bit quiet then when they originally arrived ,but unlike a sad atmosphere it once was now one of peace. They had learned and now they needed time to process things.

Venti seemed to be looking down on the clouds Appa was flying over. Stretching her Hand as if she wants to touch the cloud. Occasionally Katara would ask some questions to the girl and so Would venti.

Aang was flying Appa in his train of thoughts. No one disturbed him. Everyone gave him time to collect his thought. He was the one who seemed to be affected by this the most.

Katara was sewing her clothes that sokka had torn and Sokka. Well... He was looking at venti ever too curious

"So what magic trick can you do?" Sokka finally asked venti. "In your songs you talked about a magice carpet. Do you have it with you." He beamed

"What magic trick do you want me to show you? And no That was just a song, Sokka ,but I can make a carpet fly." Venti pulled her hand back from the clouds and faced the boy with a smile.

"Awesome! how about something that can help with fighting. Can you something like that?" Sokka continued to make some punching sounds in the air.

"Here let me show you." Venti stood up on appa's little mat. Katara leaving her sewing behind and Aang letting go of appa's ropes to look at the girl.

Venti walked over to just about the edge and extended her arms out to the clouds.

"The clouds are made out of air and water. If I can put it under extreme pressure." She put her hand in a stiff and powerful bending position.

Everyone watched as a piece of cloud flouted and placed itself on her hand. She seemed to have a look of struggling as her eyebrows were together and her hand slightly shaking.

Everyone watched as the cloud spun itself in a fast speed before completing stopping and evaporating away. But something was left. It seemed like a ice shard. No more than the size of a tooth pic.

" You can create ice." Venti fished her sentence as she held the ice pick on her hand.

"Wow cool!" Aang walked over to get a closer look. So did Katara.

"How did you do that. Isn't that water bending?" Katar questioned as she took the pick from Venti to investigate further, Aang following around as Katara held it.

" That's it?" Sokka replied bored.

"What do you mean sokka. Venti just did some water bending but she's an Airbender." Aang defended her.

"Well it's not water bending to say. I'm not the Avatar. But water does have some elements of Air and hence why I am control a small part of it." Venti explained to them.

"Wait." Katara opened her water cap to bend a small ball of water out. "Can you bend this?"

Venti extended her fingers out focused on the ball of water that katara was holding.

"Let go in 3...2...1."

Katara let go of any bending she was still holding on her water ball. The water splashed into appa's carpet.

If someone like Aang was not paying attention they would fail to miss just the little droplet of water that still stayed and hovered in the air for a second longer than the rest.

"Ha, nope not a water bender." Venti Chuckled.

"What else do you know?" Aang asked enthusiasticly.

Venti held her hand in a thinking motion as if she was in deep thought. "I can sand bend, but that's not special. Every Airbender can do that."

"Have you meet other Airbenders?" Aang asked again innocently curious about the other Airbenders that mangaered to escape the mass murder of almost all Airbenders.

"Yeah I have! There's Malan. She's great you'd love her she's like an earth bender but with air. She uses the air and surrounds rocks with it and bends it." Venti chuckled at the memory "I remember her using that technique to prove she was an 'earthbender' after the firenation got suspicious as to why there was wind on a sunny hot day."

Venti continued to laugh with tears prickling from her eyes. Noticing how Aang had a somber smile on his face as he looked at her laugh.

"I'm sorry Aang."

"Don't be. I'm actually happy to know that I'm not the last Airbender." Aang crossed his leg to sit down on the carpet with a happy smile on his face.

"ARG! Enough about this. Venti you do have money right. We can stop by somewhere and get some food real quick." Sokka said as his stomach started rumbling.

"Sure." Venti crawled over to her bag. Searching before she suddenly stops and slowly turns to sokka. Katara scolding him about how they just ate

"I take back what I said..." She hesitantly smiled. "I don't have my money bag." Venti held her head in frustration "Rohan that earthbeding snake."

"NOOO" sokka exaduraded as he slowly slumped down. His growling stomach accompanied him.

"Come one Sokka we can hunt for food like we alway do." Katara set down to pick up her sewing work"

"Yeah and I can also help." Venti said enthusiastic but sokka only replied with hungry groans.

"It's not the same~" he moaned out as he faked cried.

Aang stoop up from the mat to go sit on Appa's head. He turned to face us with a bright and beaming smile. "It's also getting late. We should let Appa rest too."

Aang flew Appa down and they landed in an area that was covered in trees. Once they were down venti and Katara started setting up camp to sleep on.

Sokka was the first to go get fire wood with Aang as Katara was taking out their sleeping bags.

Once sokka was back he threw the fire wood in a pile and slouched into his sleeping back.

"Goodnight you all." He said in a sad and lazy tone

"Sokka the sun is still setting."

"No food, No sokka."

Aang deadplaned at him. He moved to go grab something to start a small fire with so they could get warm before night actually began.

Katara stood up to go fetch some water from the rivers. Leaving Aang ,who was zoned out in the fire, and Venti who was going through her bag.

"So what's the plan, Mr avatar." Venti asked while she was still shuffling through her bag. "You mastered every element or?"

"No." Aang pulled his knees closer to his face.

Venti decided to not say anything and wait until Aang was ready to continue.

"Water is next, then earth and then fire."

Aang said still focused on the flickering flame.

Venti nodded at his answer. "And air."

Aang turned to look at her with a confused face. "What do you mean? "

"I might have not been raised in the temples ,but I do know quite a few things you might not know and hey you might teach me a thing or too."

Katara finally returned from fetching the water. By now the sun had fully set the sky was a deep purple colour.

Katara took a seat next to Aang around the fire while venti was still standing beside Appa.

"Tell me about the temples. I've only heard about them through stories and songs."

Aang seemed to light up at the idea of that.

"Even better we'll take you to the temples."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Katara inturpted. "We need to get you to the northern tribe so you can learn Water bending, remember."

Aang sloched at katara's comment.

"I mean katara's right. We should probably focus on your avatar duty. I can always go visit the temples after." Venti tried to cheer up.

A yawn found itself into venti's mouth.

"I'm gonna join sokka in the dream relm." Venti walked over to her sleeping bag that was on the other side of sokka's bag. Just one meter away from earth other. She patted it down before climbing in to close her eyes.

Leaving Aang and Katara to enjoy the heat from the fire that continued to burn bright.

#x reader #fluff #avatar #angst #avatar aang #aang x airbender reader #aang x reader #katara x aang #atla aang #atla x airbender reader #atla x reader #alta sokka #atla

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lonelysheepling · 1 year

Text

Advice for artists and non-artists but mainly just artists

You know how you do a thing for so long that it’s becomes super mundane and insignificant to you, like when you’re sewing something you just do a basic stitch and struggle to tie a standard knot at the end. But you don’t do this often enough for it to stand out to you. You’re an artist, hey maybe even a professional one, and you’ve been doing your art a certain way for a long time. You use pose references and look up environment pictures to reference. But you still draw shoes without a reference or you draw clothes without any detailed folds.

At various points in my art journey I tried using tutorials, resources, and step by step guides for drawing certain things, be that nature brushes, drawing noses front-on, etc. and my skills at the time were kinda basic so I could never really pull off the tutorials in a way that satisfied me. I then went years just improving on broad areas like perspective and posing, focusing more on the overall composition than the minor details. But one day, years later, I got bored and decided to look up how to draw clothing folds

On the left of the green line is some previous work, on the right was two pieces I drew after I heavily referenced cloth physics

Ignore the shading, lighting, colors, etc. the stuff on the right definitely has way better flow than the stuff on the left. Now it wasn’t like a “wow I used a reference and now I’m a master” situation, there was an adjustment period with some less than stellar examples

But when I created those first 2 folds it was like a fucking switch was flicked in my head and I’ve been improving ever since. I am immensely grateful that I just happened to go looking for reference photos because holy shit something as simple as improving my clothing folds massively boosted my confidence in my work. Something I’ve noticed after I followed tutorials is that during the adjustment period, while the first couple of pieces are very reminiscent of the source tutorial, they start to get a little too far off and I stop referencing the tutorial and start doing my own thing (for better or for worse), but there’s then a period afterwards where I go back (maybe after re-watching the original tutorial) and develop it more into my own style.

Here’s a graph to better explain my thought process

Here’s another gun to the head reminder to use references. Recently I was drawing shoes for a character and I have a pretty consistent method of drawing shoes (consistent, not good).

But I wanted it to look more rugged so I looked up an image of a hiking boot and guess at what point in this timelapse that the reference was pulled up

I had for years tried using tutorials and reference photos but the process never really clicked for me. But over the years I have improved my technical skills and I believe that those improvements and all that practice made it way easier for me to understand and replicate tutorials, i understand now how the specifics of certain things like shading and depth work, picking up new skills that are still in the area I work in became way easier. But Im obviously still finding areas in my art by random chance that I can improve on. Because I don’t think about those parts anymore, they’re in the background of my design process.

This is where my advice to non-artists comes in. Look up tutorials. For anything. You know earlier when I mentioned sewing? Look up a guide on stitching, I just learned today what a surgeons knot is despite having been hand stitching for years. You don’t know what you don’t know, you don’t seek out improvement when you don’t perceive the need to improve. Trust me, there’s always areas to improve but you are going to have to stretch your mind at some point to recognize them. Everybody talks about how you should use tutorials and use references and all that, but I don’t think many people are going to research tutorials for things they don’t feel like they need improvement in.

. Anyway that’s the end of my monthly psa

If something in this post confused you feel free to send me like an ask or a brick through my window with a note attached to it, I’m not picky.

#somewhat art related #art tutorial #art help #art advice #psa i guess #long post #no alt text #ask to tag #advice for artists

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3cremepie3 · 2 years

Text

Friendship shirt

Jolyne Kujoh x female reader smut 18+

Synopsis - After realizing how you and Jolyne consider yourselves enemies your teacher works on the friendship shirt. A piece of fabric that has you both getting along a lot faster then expected.

Warnings - inexperienced Jolyne, experienced reader, cursing, squirting, dirty talk, praise, cum eating

For the RETROL8VE!COLLAB by @satorhime

“Hopefully this will solve the problem.” Your dance instructor smiled at her the creation of the shirt. “Now go have fun girls.” She pushed you out of her studio.

“Oh my god,” Jolyne groaned. “It won’t be that bad let’s just Veg out,” you suggested. “Where though I’ve been everywhere in this crappy town 20 times over.”

“How about the mall Jojo?” Already been yesterday and don’t call me that.” Everyone else calls you that why can’t I,” you questioned. “Because your not my home girl.”

“We’ll fine then you asshole,” you whispered. “I’m literally attached to you I heard that!” O I forgot about that fact,” you chuckled. Jolyne and you were close together since your teacher had put you in her newest invention the “Friendship Shirt.” A huge shirt with 4 arm holes. It was designed to make you besties by the end of the night. “Let’s just go to my house my parents are gone.”

“Fine,” she agreed. You walked in one detection while she walked in another causing the shirt to tear in half. “Shit Miss is gonna spazz on us,” Jojo panicked. “We just got this too,” you winced.

Your teacher told you both if the shirt was ripped in any way that both of you would be in huge trouble and suspended from your teams for a week. That even included Jolyne with her weightlifting class.

“It’s okay I have a sewing machine at home.” Now let’s pick this up and go,” you directed. You walked the short distance to the bus stop. After taking the bus to your gated community you checked in the front desk.

“Ah Miss L/n and you brought a friend,” the clerk smiled. “While she’s not really my friend but sure,” you told the toll worker. You took a golf cart up to your mansion. “Your house Is awesome Y/n! Do you have a pool?”

“One on the inside one on the outside.” Inside too?” Your parents must be loaded!” Nope, we just got lucky.” Maybe if you cared to learn about me then you would know that they hit the lotto back in “82.”

“You just reminded me to play my numbers.” Afterward, you walked up your long driveway past the bush cut to look like a duck. You didn’t say anything to the way Jojo’s eye lit up when she saw it.

The time to tease her would come later. “Silvia, you called to your maid. “Can you make some snacks for me and my guest here?” Sure Miss L/n,” she agreed.

“Damn you have the whole set a maid and a chauffeur.” You should come over more often maybe we could study together,” you suggested. “And we could take a dip in the pool.”

“Won’t that look suspicious though Y/n.” We are direct competition,” she reminded you. “And besides I have a bunch of shows coming up so I’ll be busy for awhile.”

How could you forget Miss Jolyne the queen of hip hop shows. “Let’s go up to my room and talk about this.” You showed her into you room. “This is the size of our apartment,” she wooed.

“It’s even bigger then the old one we used to have,” you informed her. “We came a long way.” You smiled looking at your assets. “Anyways you can’t just put our dance studio on the back burner Jojo.”

“I sure as hell can.” I got where I am today only because of hip hop.” Dancing didn’t give me shit.” That’s because it takes years to get gigs Jolyne!”

“And I didn’t have money to wait years.” Sorry but I do what I can for me and my mom need to survive.” You know my dad is chessy.”

“Yeah I’m sorry I didn’t take that into consideration.” Well hey years of work really payed off for you.” I mean look your body is amazing.” You saw muscle even through her covered arms.

“Wanna see something cool,” she asked. “Sure.” She began to take off her shirt. “Look I got a tatto.” A colorful butterfly was on her arm. “How pretty.” You felt the inked area.

“I have another it’s in a strange area though.” I still wanna see this work is so awesome.” Just know I told you so.” She took off her bra throwing it somewhere in the corner. She put her arms on her sides leaning back on her hands.

“Um, why are your tits out,” you blushed. “I told you so!” The tat is underneath my boobs you gotta lift them up.” Oh Um wow,” you gulped. “Come on don’t be shy I'm not even used to pretty girls like you touching them.”

“Girls? I didn’t know you where gay Jojo!” My mom always told me you were since you never wore skirts but I saw you sucking that boy off so I didn’t believe it.”

“Oh shit you saw that,” she gasped. “Yup do a better job at locking the door.” My poor innocent eyes where scarred after that,” you frowned. “It couldn’t have been that bad girl take a chill pill.”

“Before that, I never saw anything sexual.” After I got curious and started stealing a lot of magazine. Playboy was my favorite of all those bunnies.” You practically drooled at those memories.” What?! Y/n L/n stealing that doesn’t even sound accurate?

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Like the fact that I already touched tits before.” But I’ve never seen any as perfect as yours.” Since she worked out they were perky and firm. And two big pink areola’s that looked so suckable.

“Hello?” She snapped her fingers getting your attention. “Did you forget about the tattoo?” I mean it is pretty narley maybe you want to see it,” she giggled.

“Oh yeah,” you recollected. You carefully cupped her breast then moved them up so you could see her tattoo. It faded so well on her skin tone a nice lime green and royal blue. The same color of her hair which was naturally that way. But you where distracted by something else right now.

And that was Jolyne’s reaction to your hands. Her breast felt like they where on fire. And her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. “You must be nervous Kujoh your hearts jumping.” You looked up at her.

“Pshh Shutup loser I’m just out of breath.” Glad to know I make you feel this hot baby.”Do the carpet match the drapes? “Just kiss me already stop asking me all of this,” she demanded. “Fine.” You gave in her warmth being shared with you. Her lips where soft grazing against yours.

She was nervous about a girl stealing her first kiss. She took a large breath of air. You took this opportunity to slip your tongue in. She tasted like nerds her favorite candy you always saw her chugging down.

“So sweet,” you moaned through tongue swirls. Things were getting heated her hands fell in your hair pulling you deeper. Jolyne couldn’t believe she gave in so easily to you. She was now making out with her enemy and getting a kick out of it at that.

She noted everything about your body being so close to you. Your aroma that she couldn’t help to sniff and your tiny breaths. You were yet to break away so she did.

She watched your mind hazy and starving. You were fully in the zone leaving her just for a moment. You changed the channel from the golden girls to MTV. Hopefully, they would have some making love songs on.

You crawled back over the area where she was laying on your floor. “Maybe you would like to use my bed,” you proposed. “Oh Um yeah,” she broke out of her trance.

“You look so cute brain all foggy,” you taunted. “Shut up its all your fault anyway.” Her face was coated in a deep blush. “I’ll give you what you want don’t worry.”

You pulled her t-shirt up. It was like she was prepared for this she had no bra on. “Don’t look at me like that there painful I don't like wearing them!” Hmm, it’s like you were made for me,” you insisted.

“I don’t know about that,” she stalled. “Watch this.” Your hand dug into her shorts and panties it only took you a second to find her clit which was already erect for you.

She bit her lip trying to hold in a moan from your touch. But it was too late you already heard it. “See,” you chuckled. You removed her neon shorts and then her panties tossing them somewhere on the floor.

You pushed her further down towards your Queen and Kiss posters. “Sorry but your gonna have to stare at Freddy Mercury the whole time.” You folded her legs into her chest hosting her up high so you could Neal.

She watched as you tucked your hair behind your ear with one hand. You neared her pussy spreading her glistening folds. You felt her throb when you touched her clit just barely.

She didn’t want to admit it to her enemy but she was horny just wanting you to eat her already. But you were leaving wet smooches up and down her thighs.

“Gonna mark you so everyone can see how good you felt.” Fuck that just fuck me already,” she begged. Someone’s impatient,” you giggled.

She let out a sigh of relief when your mouth finally latched onto her sucking on her bundle of nerves. Her juices flowed down your chin. “Mmm taste so good.”

You gave it little kitten licks teasing her further. Even though you couldn’t see her face you could tell that it was bunched up. She reached for your head a drove it into her pussy. She practically grounded your face on her cunt groaning at the sensation.

You breathed in your nose still covered in her fluids. Her hands tangled in your hair pushing you in further to the point where you couldn’t breathe. She didn’t care about you only her pleasure. That was the case because she moaned so loud to the point where your chef all the way across your mansion might hear.

You pulled out finally needing air. “Keep going whore,” she spat. “Not even gonna let me breathe feeling that good huh?” She could tell you where smirking at her state but she didn’t care bringing you in again. Your tounge found its way into soaping hole.

You hummed at her taste slightly sweat while your tounge reached as deep as it could. Her toes began to coil as the knot in her stomach began to form. Her body almost folded into a pretzel hurt slightly.

You took your tongue out for a sec slurping her liquids the clash of your saliva and her fluids filled the room with sounds. You wish you could laugh at Jojo's pleads and cry’s right now but you were busy switching back to suck on the bud of her clit lick it was a tip.

She squirted a bit but that wasn’t enough for you so you continued sucking like it was the best-flavored candy. You left off her once again with a pop sound.

She squirted again this time in your mouth. Right after her cum gushed down her thighs. After licking her clean you went to kiss her. Her legs fell down on the bed locking your legs into her waist and pulling you closer. She was satisfied tasting herself twice today on your tongue.

“Admit it.” Huh what are you saying l/n,” she inquired. “That you must be made for me.” You looked her in the eyes as you spoke. She looked away embarrassed to face you. “Yeah maybe your right,” she huffed!

Let's just say the friendship shirt was a more than successful scheme.

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sergeantsporks · 2 years

Text

Dadrius Week Chapter 7: Adoption

“Never thought you’d be asking me for advice.”

Hunter padded towards the kitchen at Eda’s voice, rubbing his eyes with a yawn.

“Shhh, Hunter’s asleep right now,” Darius hissed.

Hunter almost spoke up to let them know he wasn’t, but Eda’s next words made his voice die in his throat.

“Yeah, yeah. And what exactly is it that you’re so desperate not to let him know about that you’d ask me to come by in the dead of night?”

Hunter pressed his back up against the wall, heart thudding in his chest.

“I need your advice on this. You’ve had experience with kids that aren’t your own. Here.”

There was a moment of silence from Eda. Then, “It’s a big decision. Do you think he’s ready for this?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you. It’s a step I’m willing to take, but I wanted to get an outside opinion on whether it’s one he’s ready for.”

What next step?

“Mmm.”

Hunter heard a sigh from Darius. “He’s in a transitionary stage in his life. Even without the coven system in place anymore, he’s at the age where we have to start thinking about his future. I had my mentor to coach me through it, and my parents, to some degree. I don’t exactly think the emperor who wanted him kept on a tight leash and put a sigil meant to kill him on the day of unity really helped him prepare in that regard.”

“And you want to be that person,” Eda finished, “You know, Darius, you don’t have to go through all these mental gymnastics to say that you care about him.”

“I am not going to be lectured by the woman who called her eight-year-old her roommate.”

“Fair enough.”

Hunter backed away from the kitchen, blood roaring in his ears. He trudged back up to his room, numb.

Next step?

Transitionary stage?

My future?

“He’s going to kick me out of the house,” Hunter whispered.

“What?!” Flapjack chirped.

“Making sure I had the right outfits, teaching me how to cook and sew—he’s making sure I learn how to function before he kicks me out!”

“Just got here!”

Hunter ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, he bought all those clothes, and we had a really awkward first day, and I woke him up screaming, it’s not surprising he decided this wasn’t a good idea after all. Ms. Noceda wasn’t going to kick me out. Maybe Darius decided it was time he stepped in. I mean, I’m seventeen now—”

“Still a kid!”

“Yeah, but right around now is when I’d join a coven, with the way things were. Look at going to a specific track school, look at getting a job in one of the covens…”

“What next?”

Hunter shook his head, stomach roiling. “I don’t know. Could always move back to Hexside.”

“Not a house.”

“Luz offered to let me stay at the owl house, back when we were in Belos’ mind. I don’t know if that still stands, since I found another house, but…” Hunter opened the window, tossing a few outfits and his toothbrush back in his travel bag.

So much for having a closet of my own, and not keeping my clothes in a duffle bag under my bed.

How much of that speech was a lie?

“Do you think Eda will let me stay? I mean, I don’t know if she was agreeing with Darius down there. Maybe if I help her around the house? Or go out on bounty hunting jobs so I can pay rent? We’ll figure it out.” Hunter swung one leg out the window, bag over his shoulder. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

Xxx

Luz blinked. “You think he’s kicking you out?!”

Hunter nodded glumly, his knees pulled up to his chest. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Luz hissed in. “I mean… that does sound like a lot of the words they use in the human realm when they’re talking about college, and moving out. But I just guess I don’t get why he’d ask Eda for advice! She hasn’t even THOUGHT about asking King or I to leave!”

“What else would they be talking about?”

“I don’t know.” Luz shook her head. “Kinda funny, though, that he went to Eda for advice on how to prepare you to survive out there and then you came to me for advice on how to stop him from making you leave. Net zero advice.”

“I’m not here for advice. I mean—not like that.” Hunter sighed. “I don’t… if he wants to kick me out, I don’t want to stay there. I don’t want to be in his house if he doesn’t want me there. I just… don’t know where to go.”

“You could always move back in with my mom?”

“After I moved out literally just a couple of weeks ago? I said ‘okay, thanks for all the help, bye,’ and then go back? That feels… wrong.

“Alright, alright.”

“I just need a temporary place to crash. I’ll figure something out, I just want to be sure I have somewhere to go while I figure out what to do next.”

“I don’t think Darius would just throw you out out of the blue, it sounds like he’s planning on helping you figure out where to go.”

“Maybe. But… just in case.”

“Okay,” Luz said softly, “Just in case.”

Xxx

Darius knocked on Hunter’s door. “Hunter? I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

No answer.

“Hunter? Look, I know I said you should consider sleeping in more often, but eleven is a little bit…” Darius opened the door. “…late.”

The bed was empty.

The window was open.

“No.” Darius bolted for the window, looking around for any sign of Hunter.

Not again.

Darius practically threw the raven phone out the window. “Eber.”

It flew off, then the line clicked. “Eber, I need you here now, Hunter’s missing.”

The phone hung up, and Darius paced back and forth.

He would have told me if he were just going somewhere.

He wouldn’t just run off.

What happened to him?!

Eber’s ratworm slithered up, and Eber’s eyes immediately glowed. The demon followed a trail only he could see, Darius on his heels. Finally, Eber came to a stop in front of the Owl House, pointing, and Darius paced in front of the door.

“Why wouldn’t he just TELL me if he were coming here?!” he demanded.

The house demon followed him back and forth. “Oooo, are we doing a workout? I’ll help keep you on track! One and two, and one and two, and one and two and tuuuuuuurn…”

Darius grabbed the house demon’s face. “Is Hunter inside?”

“Yep!”

“Can you ask him to come out?”

“Depends! Why?!”

Darius let go of him, taking a deep breath and smoothing his shirt. “I just want to talk to him.”

“Mmmmmmmokay.”

Hooty snaked around, slamming his face through a window. “HUNTER!”

Darius heard a muffled shriek, and Hooty recoiled from the window. “Ow.”

Yep. He’s in there.

Hunter’s head poked out of the window, and even at the distance, Darius could see his face drop. Then his face disappeared, and Luz’s replaced it.

“Is he in trouble?” she yelled down

Darius pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, titan preserve me. A little,” he yelled back up, “Just for giving me a heart attack.”

“What are you going to do?”

Darius threw his arms up. “I don’t know! Tell him not to do it again? Titan, can I just talk to him, instead of this proxy nonsense?!”

“Only if you promise not to hurt him!”

Oh.

Darius held one hand up, as if taking an oath. “I won’t hurt him,” he said softly, “I swear on my life.”

The window closed, and after a few moments, the door opened, just a crack, Hunter’s face in that space. “Are you mad?”

“I thought someone had kidnapped you! What could have possibly possessed you to run off?! Climbing out the window?!”

“I—I heard you talking to Eda.”

Darius blinked.

I guess that answers the ‘is he ready for this’ question.

“And?” he asked.

“A-are you kicking me out?”

Xxx

Darius just stared at Hunter for a long moment. Then he started laughing.

Hunter drew back from the door. “What? What’s so funny?”

“That’s what you got from that?! Little prince, you just moved in!”

“Told you,” Flapjack chirped from Hunter’s hair.

“W-well, what was it about, then?!” Hunter sputtered.

Darius straightened up, and drew a circle. A pack of papers fell into his hand, and he held them out. Hunter reached out the door and snaked the papers through the doorway.

Adoption

Darius Deamonne

Hunter (Last Name Unknown).

Darius shrugged, as if it were no big deal, despite the fact that he was watching Hunter like a hawk. “I thought it would make the legal side of things easier. For schools, and medical visits, and permission slips, they tend to make things difficult if you’re not—”

Hunter sat down on the couch with a whump, the papers shaking in his hands. Darius finally pushed the door the rest of the way open and came in next to him, wrinkling his nose at the couch and sitting down gingerly.

“You don’t… have to say yes. It needs your signature, too, not just mine. I know that…” Darius waved a hand, not continuing his sentence for a few moments before taking a deep breath. “Putting your life in someone else’s hands may not be something you want to do again,” he said finally, “Not after the last person… If you sign this, ahhh, it does give me some legal control over certain aspects of your life, at least until you’re a legal adult.”

“Oh,” Hunter said softly.

“Listen. I promise I won’t exercise any of that control without discussing it with you first. I think you’re more than capable of making most of your own decisions. I may step in if I truly think you are making a decision that will negatively impact your health, and obviously, if you’re incapacitated, then I will assume medical directive. But by and large, I’ll leave your decisions, well, yours.”

Darius scratched the back of his neck. “My mentor… he helped me figure out a lot. Who I wanted to be, what I wanted to do, how to get there. Even if you don’t sign these papers, I… I want to help you with that. You’re already living with me, this would just… make it official. If you want it to be.”

“Do… you want it to be official?”

Darius snorted. “I didn’t go through all the trouble of setting up a space for you and getting all the paperwork done for nothing.”

Eda elbowed him in the head as she passed.

He glared. “Ow, Edalyn!”

“From one jaded, closed-off rebel to another? Quit hiding behind twelve layers of grouch.”

She moved on, and Darius took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said, “Yes, I do want it to be official. I want you to stay in my house, and cook with me, and have sports matches and teacher meetings for me to go to. I want to be part of your life in a way I should have been back at the coven. If you’ll let me. And if you don’t want to take my last name, or call me dad, of course, that’s fine, I’m not—”

Hunter grabbed a pen, scrawling his name on the line.

Hunter.

He lifted the pen, tapped it against his chin as he looked at the blank space after his first name.

Deamonne, he added.

Xxx

Darius blinked at the signature, relief sweeping over him. “You’re sure?”

Hunter twisted the pen around in his fingers. “When I thought… when I thought you were kicking me out, I felt… really bad. And I thought it was just because I’d be out of a house before I was ready, but then Luz said I could stay at the owl house, and… I still felt sick. Because it wasn’t just that it was about finding a place to stay, I wanted to stay with you.”

Darius opened and closed his mouth, speechless. “Oh,” he said finally, “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “About today—”

“I’m sorry for running off. If I’d just waited and listened, we could have avoided all of this.”

“You worried me. A lot. It was like… when my mentor disappeared, all over again.”

“Sorry,” Hunter repeated.

Darius bonked his head lightly. “Just don’t disappear on me again?”

“Okay. Promise”

There was a loud pop from behind them, and Hunter jumped about a foot in the air. Darius’ head whipped around, and he spotted Eda behind the couch with a foaming bottle of apple blood.

“Congrats!”

Darius rested his arm around Hunter’s shoulders. “Easy, just a bottle. Edalyn, he can’t drink that!”

“No, but you can. Congrats on being a parent! And congrats on your first child-caused heart attack! May you have many more!”

“I would prefer not to,” Darius muttered, but accepted the glass she handed him.

Luz emerged from the kitchen and tossed Hunter a juice box, raising her own. “Hey, nice new name. I’m going to write the whole thing on ALL your birthday cards, Mr. Deamonne.”

Darius leaned back against the couch. “Hey, I’m Mr. Deamonne.” He wrinkled his nose at Hunter. “I’m relatively certain that me being your official guardian means that all of your friends have to call me that.” He downed the apple blood and scooped up the adoption papers, thumping them against the table to straighten them out. “Why don’t we go finalize this, huh?”

Hunter nodded. “Last step. Not too late to back out, Darius.”

Darius shrugged, tucking the papers away. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

This isn’t a choice I think I’ll ever regret making.

#toh #dadrius week 2022 #day 7: adoption #the owl house #dadrius #darius deamonne #toh hunter #toh fanfiction #my writing

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